Our brains are mysterious things. What we dream, think, and remember can oftentimes seem sporadic or even nonsensical.
Which made me think, “What is my FIRST memory? What story laid the foundation for the (comedic) novel that is my life?”
While this may be of no interest to you, I will tell you, it is pretty funny.
I was probably about 3. I was at my Granny’s house (my maternal grandfather’s mother). She lived up on the hill next to my grandparents’, where I spent the majority of my time as a child.
See, my grandma babysits for a living, thus while my parents were working, I stayed with her.
I remember sitting in the floor in front of the television playing with these two monkey dolls she had. I always thought they were funny because they had bananas in their hands and wore clothes. Sigh, silly monkeys. My sister, JaAnna, came over and started playing with the dolls, so, naturally, we fought over them for a second, and then I let her have them, not because I was defeated or being generous, but because I had an alternative plan.
Granny had a heated blanket on her bed, and I loved to be warm. So, I casually made my way out of the living room, avoiding all wandering eyes attempting to keep tabs on me. After a few moments and stealthy tactics, I had reached my destination–Granny’s bedroom.
I walked to the corner of the bed, turned the knob to the heated blanket ever so quietly, and patiently waited for it to reach the heavenly warmth that would surely be the epitome of coziness.
But, of course, three to five minutes in toddler time is an eternity, so I had to find SOMETHING to keep me busy while I waited. A quick glance at Granny’s dresser, and I had found my entertainment. A wig, dark brown and curly.
Oh, wig, to be, or not to be upon my head? That is the question.
So, naturally, I picked it up off its stand, put it on my head, and innocently made my way back to the living room, in a natural toddler fashion. As I approached my Granny to see if she would notice my new do, I tried to stay cool.
Alas, upon receiving a gentle smile from Granny, the chuckles escaped through my devious toddler grin. She hugged me gently as she simultaneously took the wig off my head.
I don’t remember very much about her. She passed away when I was very young. However, I know that she was amazing. I mean, her favorite color was purple, so that gave her automatic cool points. Plus, she baked pies and gave kisses like no other. I have heard stories about her from my family, and I’m grateful that my first memory was shared with her.