The Bloganuary prompt is “What is your earliest memory?”
Memory is a strange thing. It can play tricks on you. Trying to catch a distant memory is almost as hard as grabbing onto the threads of a dream – wispy images and impressions that almost slip through your fingers, or rather, disappear somewhere in your mind. I write down my dreams if I remember them clearly enough – and then wonder if I was making them up.
So, one has to be careful with memories. Nevertheless, I have two very clear ones (both corroborated by my mother, who remembered them vividly). Both involve my younger sister, and summer holidays. They are not things that happened to me; nothing much happened to me at that tender age. My sister, however, was what they call a “drama queen.” When I reached my teens, I too had my dramatic moments.
The first, definitely…
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