Day 1: Let's start at the very beginning

And so it begins. Day 1 of a long trek into the wilds of what-will-I-write-about-now. I have nothing interesting to report so far. Except that I've taken to calling Vinny "Heavy V" because he's put on a little weight since moving back to SF, despite the fact that the two cats run kitty races through the apartment everyday.

My memory is pretty shoddy. I can usually remember with clarity whether Chris and I had a particular conversation, including what was said, where we were standing, our gestures, and the way his nose flared when he got mad. But then things like my last semester of college? Gone. It's fun to get together with college friends and have them fill in the (big) gaps for me.

Anyway, I know some people who have clear memories from preschool. I remember little flashes, visually and emotionally, but that's about it. I remember crying because my mom wouldn't let me wear my favorite dress to school for what was probably the fifth day in a row. It was a little denim jumper with a house and tree embroidered on the front. I think it had red buttons, too. Our school was attached to a nursing home and I remember having to walk through the halls of old people to get the milk for lunch from the cafeteria (the teachers would take a couple of students to help). What I really remember about that trek, though, is the smell of sickness and old people, on top of which was layered the sharp odor of antiseptic cleaner and bleach. I remember feeling scared of them, all slow and wrinkled.

I remember watching the class snake consume a live mouse head first and staring as the bulge crept down the length of the snake's body. I remember distinctly the feeling of simultaneous horror and fascination—incredibly grossed out yet unable to look away. Oh and I remember the papery skin that the snake would shed. I liked how it had the same ridges as the snake. To that end, I also loved smearing a thin thin thin layer of Elmer's Glue on my palm, letting it dry, and then carefully peeling it off in one continuous sheet, marveling that it had the same lines and wrinkles as my palm. (And though it's been a couple of decades since I've done that, I suspect I would still like it as much.)

I remember getting to school and being upset because I'd forgotten to tell my parents that it was Western Day or some such. I was the only one without a costume and I felt mortified. I wanted to go home to bury myself under the covers in shame. Of course, the teachers had extra costumes on hand just for kids like me, so it turned out okay. I even have a picture of me all dressed up in a fringed vest and chaps. I rode a pony that day. I really liked that.

That's it for today. No grand, sweeping conclusion about the roles these memories play in my life now. I'm pretty much just happy to remember anything about being 4 at all. What do you remember about your early childhood?