January 31 Day Blog Challenge Day #4 Earliest Childhood Memory

So this is quite interesting. As I reach back into the deepest depths of my mind there is one memory that stands out. I think it’s because at one point I had a picture to accompany it? Who knows– but it wasn’t a significant moment. I wasn’t doing something amazing or scary. I don’t even know where I was exactly, but there are some parts that are so detailed it’s scary.

I remember the sweater I had on. It was a white sweater with little green cacti all over it.  They were about 1/2 inch tall and in rows of about 10 in a perfect square on the front. The white was vivid white and the sweater was kind of stiff, like it had been freshly starched.  I remember running my fingers over the cacti, they were raised–soft like foam.  I remember using my fingernails to try to scrape them off.  The sweater was your basic crew neck but for some reason I know that I loved it.

I remember I was happy. I remember that Boyz II Men was on the television behind me. They were singing their hearts out with their tanks and unbuttoned shirts and black pants and shoes. I remember the television was a pretty large box style TV inside of an entertainment center that had dual glass doors.  You know the magnetized ones where you hear the *click click* when you pushed it in to open it. The front door was to my left and it was open. Sunlight was pouring in. I’m pretty sure I was dancing or singing or both. I was probably 4. I know I had two braided pig tails in my hair but I’m assuming I had a third in the back because that was my moms signature style for me. I had a huge smile on my face. I remember swinging my hands around in rhythm with the song.

I don’t know why this is my earliest memory. I’m currently taking a human development class and and wonder if this is when I recognized my “self” as an identity. Maybe in this moment I realized I was solid, I was real, and capable of things. Or maybe it was simply a moment of pure, innocent, happiness that my brain allows me to access.  There are many moments throughout my life when I’ve stopped, looked around, took everything in and told myself I’d remember that moment always.  I always forgot them.

What makes a moment memorable? Is it emotion? Is it people? Or could it be objects, like my cacti sweater that even today I can remember how it felt to run my fingers over?

 

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