People always paint their first memories as smiles; parents tell children their first word was something cheerful, something bright, like the word ‘truck’. Usually the memory is punctuated with enthusiasm.. ‘truck! You would say, truck!’. I have two memories from my very early childhood, and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure which came first. They’re both alarmingly clear. In one, I am in TCameron’s arms at the front door of a brown house with brown trim. It’s overcast, and the door is opened by a heavy set woman in jeans and a white flannelette shirt. This woman isn’t fat or anything, she’s just heavy set, you know? Big boned, as my grandma would say. There was no other way to put it, this woman was a big person. Anyway, she smelt like smoke and so did the house she was standing in. My mother was wearing a trench coat and her hair was down. There was a tortoiseshell clip in her hair that matched the buttons on her coat. She began to hand me over to this woman, who was meant to take care of me for the day, I remember understanding that. But I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want my mother to drop me off in the dank, smoky house, where the lighting felt like a shitty old diner. I wanted to stay with my mother. So I was screaming and crying and clawing at the tortoise shell buttons on my mother’s trench coat, and I remember crying, like heavy crying; those big old baby alligator tears falling down my cheeks. And just as one dropped onto my mother’s coat, it started to rain. The big stuff, cats and dogs, you know? And before I knew it, the smoking lady had me in her arms and didn’t say a thing, just took me into the kitchen and plonked me down in the booth that sat around her kitchen table. There were two other kids there, a boy and a girl. The girl gave me some of the shitty home made play dough that was in front of her, and the boy gave me some of his apple juice. Eventually I forgot my mother and I stopped crying. I think I was about 2 years old.
I have these moments, you know? These crazy moments of clarity where I can breathe so freely, because I realize my insignificance in the grand scheme of things. Usually these moments rock my world, like righteously. I cant help but smile and sometimes I even laugh. Like today. I was driving home from the beach, and the grass outside my window was so green, and my Wayfarers made the sky look the most perfect blue and my legs were brown and my fingers had all the right rings on them. Good music was playing and I was hit by a moment of absolute certainty. It was almost as if my confidence was concentrated for 37.5 seconds, you know? I could have done anything in that moment. It’s not like I was superhuman or anything, it was just a moment of pure confidence; everything would work out. Like I said, these moments rock my world… righteously.
