This photo is of me and my maternal Opa/Granddad – Spring 1974
Day 13 ~ My earliest memory:
My earliest memories are from when I was 18-months to 2-years old.
The first is me crawling into the kitchen while my mother was making supper. I was thirsty, and my mother needed me to wait until she was finished to help me. I was sitting by the fridge. It was a big, old, thing, too hard for me to manage. So, when next my mother opened it, I decided to climb up the racks to the milk I had wanted. Things didn’t go as planned, and two of the racks I was clinging to slid out with all their contents on top of me. I received a gash on my upper, left forearm from a pickle jar that smashed. I remember crying from fear, pain, disappointment, and remorse. My mother picked me up and carried me to the main bathroom. The walls and lights were yellow in there. My father’s face was a mix of shock and cross. The blood streamed down my left arm as my mother rinsed the cut. I never did that again.
The second is me sitting in the middle of the couch in the living room of that same house. I was scanning the floor and sitting very still, because my father was looking for a snake that had managed to get loose. I was terrified.
The third memory is of me squeaking the silly dolly pictured above with me and my maternal Opa.