Day two’s prompt: my earliest memory.
For years, my earliest memory was of being a baby at a drive-in movie. My parents were watching something on the big screen while my mom was trying to change my diaper. This was the late 60s when disposable diapers were new, but they were still fastened with pins.
My first memory is of my mother sticking me with one of those pins. My very first memory of my life in this world is pain, and the sound of my own screams.
This was not the last time I felt pain. I have felt the pain of childhood’s scratches, scrapes, and skinned knees. I have felt the pain of pulled teeth and pierced ears. I’ve withstood the pain of labor and childbirth twice, and recently the painful recovery from the surgery that took my womb from my body. The pain of a broken heart has left my body wracked with sobs. The pain of grief has touched me many times, especially at the loss of my grandmother and father. Pain has punctuated my life many, many times. Sometimes it has been unbearable.
However, without that pain I would not be able to understand or appreciate joy. I’m thankful for that.
Whatever my first memory may be, I am made of all of my memories, pains, and joys. It was all necessary to make me who I am.