First Memory

What is your first memory? Mine is from when I was three. The memory I’m about to write was verified. Well most of it was anyway. I had to fill in a few blanks.

My dad loves to fish. I remember him casting his line in the lake, then sitting beside me on a large slab of cement, which I later learned had been placed there for fishermen. I had my own line to watch, but took in the tree lined scenery. To the right of the slab was grass. And in the grass was this oval, greenish-brown rock with the neatest square design on it. Only three years old at the time, I can’t remember if I recognized the rock as an oval and the design as squares, but that’s what I see in my minds eyes.

Daddy said something to me that I don’t remember. What I do remember is the rock moved! I tugged Daddy’s arm and pointed at the rock, which was headed toward the water. Not getting the response I wanted, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I hopped up and ran for the rock. Daddy called me back, but do you think I listened? Heck no! I was three and had never seen a walking rock before. The rock was almost in my grasp when it tipped into the water, and I suddenly I hovered over the ground. Next thing you know, the rock got away.

Floating in the air, I couldn’t control what direction I went in. Though my head remained pointed at the lake, watching my rock sink, my body turned away from the lake. Upset my find had gotten away, I looked to see what was making me float. I’d never been able to float before. Maybe losing the rock wasn’t so bad, seeing on how I could now float, maybe even fly like a bird.

Accepting I wouldn’t have a walking rock but could float, I faced the same direction as my body. Daddy had a frown on his face and me by the back of my overalls. Even at three, I knew the look on his face was not happy. To help fix his face, I quickly told him about the walking rock. The way I saw it, he had super long arms, and if I said the magic word—please—he would reach to the bottom of the lake and get the rock for me.

Well, he didn’t reach to the bottom of the lake. Instead, he laughed, hugged me and then tied the strap of my overalls to one of the belt hoops of his pants so we could continue fishing.

That’s it. By the way, the rock was a turtle.

Have a happy trip down memory lane.

Much Joy, Peace, and Love
Deatri