Memories (Part 1)
When I was three, I remember sitting on my dad’s lap in the driver’s seat of his jeep.
When I was four, I remember falling and cutting my knee on a rock.
At 10, I remember meeting one of my cousins for the first time. He stood in front of our apartment door, eyes bright with a mischievous smile on his face.
At 19 years old, I remember the Coach bus pulling away as I’m waving goodbye to my one year old daughter. That’s the last time someone other than myself made me cry.
I remember being four years old and choking on a fish bone. To this day, I don’t eat fish if there are too many small bones.
Nine years ago, I remember sitting down in the living room of my apartment and starting to write my first novella. It took six years to finish.
I remember being twelve years old when I tried weed for the first time (I didn’t feel anything.)
I remember riding my bike to summer camp with my older brother when he fell and cut his chin. I was nine. I think he still has the scar.
Last week, I spent the day at a high school speaking to groups of students. It reminded me of all the fun I had as a teenager, and all the dumb shit that got me into trouble. Not that I was a big troublemaker or anything, but I digress.
At 12, I had my first kiss. Or maybe 11. A girl named Romina, if I’m not mistaken. Or possibly Delia.
I remember buying my first beer at 14. It was after summer school and my friend Greg said they won’t card me because I’m tall. They didn’t. We drank on the bus headed across Finch. No one blinked twice.
So many memories. This week, I’m going to keep cataloguing all of the memories that randomly come to mind. No structure, just whatever I remember as I’m writing.
Feel free to join me. You’ll be surprised at what you remember when you sit and think about it.
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Let’s C.R.Y together
Read my novella Thoughts of a Fractured Soul.