Two childhood memories that came to me while I was working today:
-I was taking a walk with one of my aunts in Ohio. It was winter and snow covered the ground like a white crispy blanket. I had on a blue puffy coat that went down to my knees and mittens covered my little hands. We were walking along train tracks and there were bare trees extending their bent naked bodies in every direction, creating a crooked, brown, dry maze of branches. As we forged through the maze of tangled wood, I felt a thorn in my mitten. I distinctly remember my discomfort and the pain of the thorn forging its way through my mitten and under my skin, unseen by my eyes. My aunt stopped to help me remove the thorn and we continued on our wintry adventure.
-Some memories are more of a state or a feeling than the memory of an actual event. I often recall the feeling of sitting on the couch in the living room of my family's old apartment on the third floor and listening to the unmistakable sound of a plane making its way through the daytime sky--sky that I saw laid out before me marked with trees, black horizontal power lines, brick houses and other apartment buildings. Despite being extremely urban in nature, I can only describe the feeling evoked by that memory as both calming and comforting. It's funny how a memory so bare and simple can be so cherished.
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