Memories...

You know it is funny how memories work. I can't really tell you what my earliest memory is, and there are many memories that I am uncertain about... memories where I don't know if they are simply my imagination from a picture or a story. There are, however, many memories so clear and so obscure that I know they could not have come from any outside influence.... they are simply personal flashes of recollection that play for a second in my mind and then disappear as if the film ran out.

I was really young when Granddad and Nannie died, but I have some really distinct memories of them. These flashes are so real and tied to a split second of memory in my mind. Memories that a two year old would have... Memories like the texture of Nannie's hair...... or the smell of their house (To this day the smell of natural gas takes me back to their little house)... their front yard and the chairs on the front porch... flaking red paint on the front porch... Memories of sitting and playing on the massive air grate on the floor and how it hurt my hands and left a checkered pattern on them. I have distinct memories of Granddad holding me up to pick grapes and of looking down at Nannie's hands around me as she held me... and I have a distinct memory of eating a type of 'cheese-it' pack of crackers in the hospital. I wish that I had more.... but I am grateful for what I remember.... and I'm grateful that the memories are real and are mine.