As an adult there are many childhood memories that are quite apparent to me. These memories are both joyous and grieve some. But, of the two I believe the ones that stand out the most are the ones that were the most dramatic. These consisted of memories that brought me and the ones I loved either physical or emotional harm. Remarkably I have memories as far back as one year old. This is where I’ll start.
When I was one, my family and I, lived in the town of Capitola California. My father was an avid fisherman. One day he and our neighbor had returned with their bounty of fish to clean. As like any child I was curious. Next to the small apartment complex we lived in was a vacant lot. This is where the men decided to do the deed of gutting and cleaning their catch. The children were not allowed to come. We were told to stay at home while they went to complete the task. My sister, I and the two neighbor kids wante
I don’t remember much more. Though this happened at such an early age I remember that incident to this day. My family still talks about it and through that I think that is how I remember it so well. I can’t imagine how I can recall such an early memory I just know I will never forget it.
Earlier in the day my sister and the neighbor boys, each at least one year older than I, had unearthed a large rock. This rock and I were about to get better acquainted. The introductions were done through my skull. As the tractor rocked I lost my footing, slipped and fell onto the hardened piece of earth; head first. The pain I felt was like no other I had felt before. That is what presumably brought the men from the other side of the fence, all that screaming.
My father scooped me up. He rushed me into the house and into the bathroom that is where I saw for the first time blood. He had placed my head into the bathtu
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