Childhood

I was having a conversation with a coworker the other day about first memories. How early do we start to retain images, sounds, and smells from our surroundings? Why do we remember the things we do? What is it about those moments, that our brain stops to capture it?

My memories aren't really anything to monumental. They aren't traumatizing, or historic, in any way. They are just every day moments. I had to have been less than three years old, as we lived in this little house on Maple Street in Enid, OK. I have lots of little moments of memories in that house, but it seems odd to me that I can remember them so vividly.

- Hiding behind the stove to eat a fresh baked cookie I stole off the stove top.

- Accidentally inhaling instead of exhaling while blowing bubbles and getting the worst case of hiccups ever.

- Standing on the back patio while my dad sprayed the shower hose out the bathroom window at my brother and I.

- Nightmares of trains coming into the bedroom I shared with my big brother.

There are more I could post, but again, they are just every day, ordinary, nondescript, moments. It makes me stop to wonder what my kids will remember. What has already been imprinted on their little minds and memories? Will Sullivan remember the first time he was spanked, or the sound of my voice as I yelled at him for leaving his toys on the floor? Or will he remember going on walks in his red flyer wagon and blowing dandelion wishes? Will he remember how much fun he had at his birthday party yesterday and how he told me it was the "best day ever"? I hope that we as parents are offering him enough opportunity to make happy memories, that his adorable little brain doesn't have room for dreams of nightmares. And I hope one of Sawyer's memories is not of her big brother putting a ski cap over his eyes and running head first into the swing set. (Sorry, Mike!)