December 22nd 2024.
It's amazing how our memories can transport us back in time, even if it's been decades since the event. I still remember a day from over 37 years ago, when I was just a little two-year-old, sitting on a sledge with my mum. We were caught in the middle of a blizzard, and she was struggling to pull me through the thick snow. I could feel the fear creeping in as the cold seeped through my body. Looking back, it's strange that I was aware of the concept of freezing to death at such a young age.
But that day is etched in my mind as if it just happened yesterday. I remember the relief I felt when we finally reached the shop, and how the shopkeeper tried to soothe me as I cried from the pain of the cold. It's one of my earliest memories, along with chipping my teeth on a piece of furniture when I was just one year old.
Remembering things from a young age has always been natural to me. I never thought much of it until I became a parent myself and realized that it's not common for people to have such vivid memories from their early years. It's changed the way I approach parenting now, knowing that my son may not remember everything from his childhood with the same clarity as I do.
My good memory has always been a source of pride. In school, it helped me breeze through exams that required memorizing facts, and it also helped me form strong friendships as I could remember so much about my friends. As I grew older, people even started calling me a "human Google" because I could recall details about people and places that they had long forgotten.
It's always been a fun party trick to be able to recall information at the drop of a hat, but it's not always as great as it seems. I can never forget upsetting things that have been said to me over the years, even though most people can move on and forget. As an adult, I've had to seek therapy to deal with depression, anxiety, and OCD, which can be harder to work through when you remember so much.
But my memory has also been a blessing in many ways. It's helped me understand myself better and has allowed me to look back on my formative years with a deeper understanding. And despite the traumatic memories, there are countless happy ones that I'm grateful to have. I remember dressing up my baby brother in doll clothes and being lifted up by my parents to pet the horses in the field behind our house. Those memories bring me so much joy.
Now that my son is three, I'm more aware of the impact my interactions with him can have. I know from experience that children don't just forget things, so I try my best to make his early years filled with happy memories. I don't do any "adult things" around him, like swearing or talking about him negatively. I want him to look back on his childhood with fondness, just like I do.
In a way, I hope my son has the same powers of memory that I do. One day, we'll be able to reminisce about all the fun we had together. Because, in the end, there's no greater gift you can give your child than happy memories.
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