elfs | Earliest memories of family

It must be Friday. I'm feeling fried. Brain filled to the brim with a big mix of emotions and no place to put them all, but with that odd sensation that they'd all fit in a nice box if I could only find a box with all the right-shaped holes in it.

At a suggestion from

jatg, I'm going to try this.

Mom: A party. At the Big House, the one Dad couldn't really afford but wanted anyway to show that he was moving up in the world. Some massive real estate deal, I recall. Mom looking elegant in a white gown, moving through a crowd of people who were all too important to be bothered with the details of life. A blatant attempt to move up in the world. I dropped something on my foot and severed my little toe, left foot. Wandered out onto the white shag carpet, bleeding. Suddenly she was Mom again.

Dad: The day he and Mom separated. I was twelve. Him in the car. I chose to go with him, although that didn't work out soon thereafter. He looked grim. It was raining. The day was dark gray, night was coming. It was one of the few times I got to ride in his car, rather than Mom's. I hate the smell of leather car seats.

Sandra: In the bedroom we shared. We were both about five. Bouncing on the bed. Probably my favorite memory; one of the few times I remember feeling like a kid. The wallpaper was bright with floral prints, the clothesdresser was likewise white. It was late in the afternoon because I remember the sun coming in through raised-shuttered windows that looked out over the backyard.

Steven: I don't remember my brother. My parents sent me to a boarding school when he was seven and I was thirteen. I never formed a firm image of him in my mind, and there are no memories attached to his name. I've tried to change that. I get the impression he doesn't want to.

Richard: Mom's father's brother. Lived with us until he was 96. I remember seeing the crudely etched numbers tatooed on his left arm and wondering if I'd ever have to get something like that. I played a lot of Go Fish! with the man, and rarely won despite the prodigious amounts of Busch beer he drank. We were sitting on the back porch, around one of those ubiquitous cement tables with the canvas umbrella, playing cards like we did every Saturday.