Okay, guys, so I’m pathetic. I can’t think of anything to write on this blog…I’m just drawing a blank. No matter how hard I try, I can’t come up with an idea…so I have resorted to journaling prompts. I’m hoping (praying, really) that this will open up the flood gates of inspiration and I’ll be able to write things.
Anyway, here is my first blog Prompt:
I have a few memories here and there that can be considered an “earliest memory” but there’s only one that has nothing to do with a surgery I had…
My first bike. It was pink and purple bike, a two-wheeler with training wheels (because I didn’t know how to ride a two-wheeler yet), and a basket in the front. The wheels were white. I got the bike for Christmas and I think I was about…4 or 5 or so. I remember that when I found it, I was wearing a Snow White nightgown: white front with Snow White’s face on it, blue back with blue puffy short sleeves. (Talk about first childhood memory!)
Anyway, I went into the basement of the house and found the bike. It was in a corner or something and I saw it. I didn’t go near it, though, for some reason. I just saw it and then I ran up the stairs. I told my mother about it later on and then, when I went back to the basement, the bike was gone.
I thought I hallucinated it. I asked my mother about the bike, once I realized it was gone, and my mother said she didn’t know what I was talking about. She never saw the bike downstairs and she would know, she always did the laundry.
Flash forward to Christmas day, and there it was, my bike. My super awesome pink and purple bike. Turns out that “Santa” brought my bike early, tried to hide it in the basement, but didn’t do a great job. So he had to take it back to his workshop so I wouldn’t see it again.
Of course, when I was four or so, that seemed like a very good answer. I didn’t question it at all, I mean, why would I? It was only until later that I realized that my mother had to hide it because I was never supposed to see it. I obviously realized this around the same time I realized that Santa wasn’t a real person.
I loved that bike and to be honest, that is the only bike I’ve ever owned. When I finally grew out of that bike, I used my sister’s bikes from when they were younger. Still, that bike meant everythign to me and I hated that I grew out of it. If I could’ve had my way, I would’ve kept that bike. And part of me still wishes I had!