First Memory

25 10 2012

I was in my mother’s arms, and the light was dim and yellow as the box grew closer. Looking down there was  a shape, pale, olive skin poked out of a loved 3 piece, brown tweed suit with a simple white shirt to compliment, and a red tie, possibly silk. I don’t remember the smell. But I was given an old Avon bottle in the shape of a Gatsby era car, its a bright canary yellow, that is what he wore.

His cheeks were slightly sunken in and had a tiny bit of white hair a top his dome. His nose was pointy. His hands were long and boney, used, useful hands at one point. Did they betray him in the end? Or was he able bodied until he quit? The way the elegant things laid there was as if they had succumbed to exhaustion due to excessive twiddling.

And his mouth seemed to have some strange smile, as if it were all a joke.

I don’t know  how old I was, I am told that I was two. Its the only time I really remember being carried and held that way by my mother. I know I was much more, because that’s the kind of person she is, but I don’t remember any other moments outside of peering into death.

I want to say I remember wearing mary jane shoes, but I can’t remember if they were the white ones or black.

I know I’ve written about my first memory several times, perhaps not on here, but I have all the same. In high school we watched The Three Faces of Eve as a way of sorta kinda learning what people used to think of dissociative identity disorder, or multiple personalities. And that was her trigger, that she had been made to kiss a dead person. In that terrible Mary Higgins Clark book it was because the girl had been molested. Which I remember thinking that, that seemed way more feasible  even though apparently the movie was, “based on a true story”. I remember thinking how silly it was for some one to be triggered by kissing a dead relative and that essentially being the “reason” for their undoing.

But my first memory is not too unlike the one presented in Three Faces of Eve, I don’t remember if I was made to kiss him or not, but I do think it has impacted me more than I’m willing to admit.

Sometimes I think that, that’s why I’m not afraid of dying and why, for me, death is just another part of life.  Other times I wonder if  that memory is the reason for my melancholy. But life isn’t that simple as being just one thing.

Advertisements

Actions

Information

One response

26 10 2012
boorf

My first memory (I think? chronologically I don’t actually know) is also of a funeral~~ fun facts to know and share

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




%d bloggers like this: