I became conscious while walking through LAX airport holding my moms hand as we approached a strange smiling man with an afro and handle bar mustache (turns out it was my father)
I became conscious while walking through LAX airport holding my moms hand as we approached a strange smiling man with an afro and handle bar mustache (turns out it was my father)
My earliest clear memory, I think, is of going “into the mountain” with my dad. Where we lived when I was 3-4, there was a “mountain” in the middle of town. It wasn’t actually a mountain, more like a really tall cliff, but that’s what everyone called it. You could drive or walk up to the top and look out over the whole town. I remember, one time, only going up part-way, and entering a cave system where you could walk to a few different “holes” in the side of the cliff, that also looked out over the city.
Except, I went back around when I was in college, and there is no such cave system. My dad confirms, there never was. So, apparently, my earliest memory is false.
The earliest memory I have that’s TRUE (as far as I know) is a little later, playing doctor, wherein I helped my dad give birth to 3 stuffed animals, who I then named Peter, Emily, and Raisin Bran.
Love that
Still have him, too. He lost an eye to a dog like 8 years ago.