My earliest memory is from when I was on a trip with my parents at 19 months. The memory is primarily emotional, because I was furious at not being allowed to do something I felt I should do. I can remember self-advocating vehemently, and then subversively slipping away and trying to get what I wanted. It almost worked!
I have another memory from a few months later, just before I turned 2. My mother and I were going clothing shopping, and I sneaked into the middle of a round clothing rack as my mother browsed next to me. On the floor was the round backing of an anti-theft dye tag, which I thought was a Smartie. I still remember the acrid taste of the tag, and the relief I felt at spitting it out. (I can actually imagine tasting it as I write this.)
I have a hunch that our strongest early memories are tied to survivalist lessons and--by corollary--parental love. In the first case, I learned the importance of not drowning. In the second, not eating strange items I found on the ground. Important lessons.
Other less distinct memories from the same period are:
- The smell of my mother's bath robe and the sound of crackling logs as we cuddled by the fire and read books before bed.
- The feeling of the original tush tag on my favourite teddy bear, which I received my first Christmas. My mother had to replace the tush tag every few weeks with a new ribbon because I would rub it off. Sensory seeking runs deep in our family tree.
- The pleasant, tingling sensation I felt run down my back the first time I hear a rain stick, when I was 3.
