What is your earliest memory?
I can remember playing amongst sunflowers, tall and bright, that were planted in a bed with a terracotta border. I was barefoot, and I trod on a thorn.
I spoke to my Mum about this, and she refuses to believe I could possibly remember it because she remembers it – and she remembers she was pregnant with my sister, and we were still in Saudi Arabia. I was only two. But I do remember. I remember the thorn in my foot. She says it was a tiny little thing, barely even penetrating the skin, but in my memory it was massive!
This made me wonder what the boy’s first memory will be. He’s five (and a quarter!) and so he must have something stored up. I wonder what it might be?
Will it be a holiday we’ve been on? Will he remember curling up against me and me reading him The Twits, putting on funny voices for all the characters? Always cockney for some reason. His stories always end up sounding like they are being read by the cast of EastEnders.
Maybe he’ll remember his first day of school, being lead away from us with his friend Jacob, hands clasped together tightly, but not looking back.
Maybe he’ll remember his Daddy kissing him, and tickling him with his beard until he screamed with laughter.
I hope he doesn’t remember the times he’s driven me to distraction and I’ve shouted at him, or when he’s been sent to his room for some sort of bad behaviour.
I hope his first memory is a happy one. Even though my first memory is one of sudden pain, at least there were sunflowers.