When I was two years old, I was very afraid of the dark. My mom had put me to bed, but I didn’t want to be there alone. I was scared.
So I devised a way to conquer my fear by claiming I was thirsty. My mom said I didn’t need any water. But I cried out again, insisting I needed a drink. Again, she told me I didn’t need any water.
Finally, I admitted I was afraid (which, in my family, could have left me vulnerable to teasing – hence my reluctance to own up to it) and my mom told me to just go to sleep, that I wouldn’t even remember it in the morning.
I remember thinking that I would remember it, and I cried, but to no avail.
So, I planted myself right in the middle of my crib (pictured above) so the monsters under my bed couldn’t reach me and pull me under.
And Mommy, here I am, almost 60 years later, and I still remember!
In the photo are my sisters, my mom and me. I’m the youngest, the one in the front in the middle, poking my dolly’s eye out.
What are your first memories? Is there anything in particular that you would like to know about me?
What can you share with your loved ones about your life?
A Pocketful of Joy to Fill Your Day