First Memory – A Pocketful of Joy 

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 


4 thoughts on “First Memory – A Pocketful of Joy 

  1. Don’t you hate it when someone else tells you how you feel, or that something you feel strongly about doesn’t matter? We do that to kids, and sometimes to adults close to us as well. This is an important cautionary tale and cute picture.

    Speaking of dolls, my brother and I had a strange relationship with MY dolls. He felt sorry for them that I did not play with them much. I felt sorry for them that he took them, played with them and colored on their faces. I cleaned them up and dressed them, put them on my bookcase, and he snuck into my room and stole them for another play day in the dirt or in his bedroom. I would find them under his bed, and in holes he dug as buildings in the back yard and the cycle continued.

    Liked by 1 person

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