Childhood Revisited

Childhood Revisited Memories are a funny thing. They are the mental and emotional ties that we have to the past. Without photographs or videos, memories are all we have to recall significant moments throughout our lives. Whether it is a momentous life achievement, or a simple snap shot of being happy or sad, memories live within our psyche. They are not tangible objects; they are not even exact or clear. They are fuzzy scenes in our minds that we hold on to because they evoke certain emotions or signify some kind of importance. Or maybe you have some memories stowed away and the reason has yet to be revealed. The most interesting and complex element to memories is that they are easily interfered with. While time and age are the most obvious
predators of the vivid recollection, it is the outside influences and personal desires that make memories more than just a recall of time and place. When we are children, memories do not begin to claim stake in our minds until we are a certain age. What age that is differs for everyone. My first memories are at the age of four. When I think back on my early childhood, I can see the house I first lived in, the house I was brought home from the hospital and lived in until I was two. I can visualize scenes of me playing with my Grandmother in that house. I can see the backyard, the entire layout and even a pink laundry basket that my Dad used to pull me around in until I would fall asleep. I was two when we moved out. How do I remember it then if my first true memories are at the age of four? I have seen many pictures and videos of that house. I don’t have any actual memories of my own, just things and moments that I have seen and been told throughout my life that took place there. Photos, videos and other people’s memories repeated time and again create what we think are our own special remembrances but in actuality they are just stories told to us that interfere with what we actually do remember. The same can happen with small, specific details. My boyfriend and his mother constantly disagree over what color cowboy boots his little brother wore as a kid. She swears they were red but he is certain that they were blue. How does the same memory differ from person to person and why? The cowboy boots were in fact blue, but why does my boyfriend’s mother see red boots on her little boy when she looks back? And after thinking for so many years that the boots were red, she would tell stories about the little red boots and soon, my boyfriend’s little brother began to remember red boots as well. These are examples of outside influences affecting our memories or creating memories. One of the first memories I have was not captured by a picture, video or another person.
It is a simple moment that stayed with me through the years because it was one of the first times I remember bonding with my father. I’m sure my dad has many memories before this of us boding as father and daughter but this is the first one for me. We had just got home from the community pool and we were sitting on the living room floor eating Rocky Road ice cream out of the carton watching Supermarket Sweep. I do not remember what we said; I do not remember the color of my bathing suit. I just remember what we were doing and how it made me feel, happy and close to my dad. Now, over time, I somehow began to include my mother in this memory. She was not in the living room with us, in fact, she was not even home at the time. I wanted her to be there. I wanted her to be apart of my first feelings of happiness as a child. Many years later my dad and I were reminiscing about this particular memory and he told me that at that time my mother and he were going through hard times and she was quite absent and gone from the house a lot. I suppose on some level I felt that absence and that is why I tried to incorporate her. This is an example of personal desires altering our memories. Whether it is to ease the pain of a troubled time or wanting something so bad that it begins to exist in your memory, sometimes we create the memories we wish we had. The mind is a funny thing. How we recall time and moments throughout our lives will always be somewhat of a mystery. It is ironic that these fuzzy scenes that we hold so dear are things that we might never fully understand. It is the most precious and beautiful things in life that can’t be explained, and what is wonderful about that is, there is no need for explanation. We are ok never
knowing.