My First Memories

Once upon a time, I was little. Yes, that pudgy, round face belongs to me. It's hard to believe but my mother labeled the photograph in her lovely flowing script so I know it's true.

I've changed considerably since I posed for that photograph. With another birthday looming ahead, I can look back and be grateful for all I've had--loving parents who made sure I had a good education, great siblings, a terrific husband, wonderful daughters, interesting work experiences, and fun friends. I had some tough times, but life has been rather interesting--and any of the bad parts I can always use in a book. :-)

Yes, that's the beauty of being a writer. Nothing goes to waste. All sorts of experiences can be recycled.

My first memories are not happy ones. I went into the hospital at the age of three and the doctors did not know what had caused my illness, but since polio was rampant back then they suspected it and put me in an isolation ward. I was there for along time. I remember sitting in a crib in a huge dark room, all alone. I remember the irritable nurse. I remember my father coming to visit me wearing a suit. (He always wore a suit to work.) He read me a story and gave me ice cream. He also lifted me up so I could look down and see my mother and brother far below on the pavement. Only--I could not see them. It was a long way down, and I was not sure where to look. My mother was not well and could not visit me. :-(

The doctors gave me antibiotics and I recovered. I did not have polio.

I remember leaving the hospital. Stepping out of the elevator in a beautiful party dress. (Yes, I knew it was a special dress even then.)

What's your first memory? Is it a good one or a bad one?