Hm. My earliest memory. This is actually a tough one, for I don’t know which of the many I have came first. Hm. Hm. Hm. Well, I guess to avoid that problem, we’ll start here:
When someone mentions the words “earliest memory,” a specific photo always pops in my head. Now, the photo itself isn’t the furthest to which my mind goes back. We’ll get to that point eventually.
The picture I think of actually came to surface when I was five years old and putting together my Barbie photo book. Yes, I know. How lame. But, hey, I’ve always been a bit of a photo nerd.
Anyway, it was simply an image of a few of the toys I had as a toddler scattered on our old living room rug. A little blue cup, some other miscellaneous things I don’t recall, and, in the very center, a small, stuffed tiger lying facedown.
The tiger. That, my friends, is my earliest memory.
I still have him. I’ll attach a picture of him and I together right here:
Well, at the time I found the photo, Tiger (yes, that is his name) had been lost for probably almost two years. Growing up, I had a nasty habit of misplacing my stuffed animals, only to find them a year or two later and never lose them ever again. So Tiger was experiencing that stage of his life, and I was missing him very much.
When I saw that photo (that I previously had no idea existed), I instantly thought back to all the good times we had together: playing pretend jungle, taking (or not taking) some pretty cool naps. Yeah. That was basically the extent of it. Super exciting, I know.
Moral of the story: It’s those times with Tiger that are my earliest memories, and I would’ve never remembered them if it wasn’t for finding that one random picture on that one random afternoon.
Granted, like I said before, I’m not sure where they fall on the grand scheme of my other earliest memories, but my heart tells me that they were probably the first. So I’m gonna stick with it.
And that is all. Have a good one.