Which memories do you decide to write first? As hard as you try to retrace your memories, there isn’t a valid way to catalogue your memories in chronological order. Tonight’s memory isn’t anything too spectacular, but it’s one of my earliest memories of my mom.
I was around 3-years old at the time. We hadn’t moved out of our Essex home. From the outside, it wasn’t anything spectacular. A one car garage on the right, stairs led up to the front door. It was a small house for 7 people, and for me this was my first home.
On this day, my mom and I went to a local seafood store that was down the road from us. I really didn’t like walking. Mainly because my stubby legs and tiny feet could only cover so much ground. I also just wanted to be carried by my mom.
We walked home from the seafood store with Mom carrying a large paper bag. I must have been a very energetic child because at one point, we had to stop along a stonewall so Mom could catch her breath. Mom needed both hands to carry the paper bag, and I wanted her to carry me instead. Or at least play with me. Or hold my hand. That’s when the paper bag moved. Something was still alive inside. I no longer wanted Mom to carry me. I just fixated my eyes on this large package Mom held, and before I could even think of what lurked inside, a red claw tore through the paper like nothing! I must have gone crazy because a second claw followed! Both claws waved around the air, each held down tightly with blue rubber bands. My mom was carrying a monster. She must have been so brave. I don’t think I wanted my mom to carry me next to such a beast.