A lot of people say that they can’t remember much of their childhood, and I’m pretty sure I agree. For example, I do not remember ever living in Danville, Virginia, yet I know I spent the first 2 years of my life there. I have pictures proving that fact to me. I don’t remember March of 1980 when we moved into the house that I would spend the next 25 years at and I don’t remember meeting my next door neighbors Christa and Jennifer with whom I would spend a vast majority of my life, but I bet if you asked my parents they could spit out memories of those years as if they never forgot that they existed.

I think my earliest memory has to be laying in bed one night hearing my parents voices they weren’t loud but they were there and then I remember I had fallen out of bed and I was calling for them. No one came and I got back into bed and fell asleep as if nothing happened. I remember that time, yet I don’t know if it was just a dream or not as I don’t remember any of the details of that time, only the fact that I heard voices. I remember being at my moms parents house in North Carolina and my cousins telling me that E.T. was coming to visit and waiting up for hours on end to meet E.T. only to be told that he had called earlier and was offered me a rain check. How about going to Pennsylvania in a car pool of vehicles and me being allowed to talk on the CB radio only to be called by the truckers around “Lil Trucker”. I remember the chicken corn soup, and passing by a large building it was red I believe and it was a flea market or furniture store of some sort on the way to the house where I would eat the chicken corn soup.

I remember having to visit my grandfather in the hospital after he had a stroke, or heart attack. I’m not sure which one it was but I remember going to see him. The hospital was so dark and seemed so lonely. Playing tag outside the old neighbors house in Danville, VA with some red headed boy that I think I had a childhood crush on. We would pretend that if the passing car lights saw you, you would be “Shot”. I also remember being at that same house in the back bedroom playing on the video game system, and her rolls at dinner always being so good. The black and white tiled bathroom and I remember all the peoples faces. I don’t remember all their names, but their faces are as clear as pictures in my mind.

I remember every detail about the house I grew up in. There are times even to this day I have dreams that are so vivid I wake up wondering where I am and why I’m not in my bedroom of so many years looking out the window at the mountains. My dreams of that house can be so real that I can almost touch the things that were in that house.

I can recall the first time I heard my parents fighting. I don’t remember what it was about but my dad was sitting in his chair in front of the bar, most likely with his peanuts and his spit cup watching tv, and my mom on the opposite side of the room in her corner either cross stitching or doing some crafty thing. I was sitting on the floor near the stool that sat in from of my moms chair and was playing with my barbies and my dad said something that I’m not sure I will ever forget. Its one of those things that as a child I had no idea what it meant but as an adult I think WOW that was pretty powerful to say even if they didn’t mean it. Their fight was most likely about doing the bills, I’m sure it always seemed through out life that doing the bills caused the most stress in the house. Anyway they were fighting and he was telling her how he would get her a bus ticket and it would be one way and how I would never be seen again. But what I remember exactly is when he said “Carrie take a good look at your mom cause you won’t see her again” and then I remember looking around without thinking and going directly back to playing with my toys. I guess even at that age you know that parents fight and never really mean it. It sure wasn’t the last fight I would ever see a set of parents go through. As I grew up watching even my neighbors parents fight. These things never really bothered me as a child, I guess they are right when they teach you that children are about themselves, that fight didn’t directly pertain to me so I didn’t really pay attention.

I remember a lot of what happened in pre-school. I remember my first day not wanting to let go of my moms leg as she dropped me off. I was followed around all day by a BOY David, and he became my first kiss and the first hand that I held. For all certain purposes I guess he was my first boyfriend. Though at that age we don’t even know what any of that means.

My first day of Kindergarten was much of the same, I had to find my name on the table with the color and shape and sit with all these new kids. We had a class pet, and watched the Electric Company, 3,2,1, Contact and the Letter People. (yes I’m aging myself with those) I got a spanking that year also by the teacher and when I got home by dad. In case you are wondering why, I dumped out a bag of tinker toys without asking first. Seems innocent enough but needless to say I did it.

First grade was one of my favorite years in school, as my teachers husband would always come to school during lunch. We always knew it was lunch time when he would walk up to the building. Both my teacher and her husband were amazing people. This is also the year I started to HATE PB&J sandwiches. To this day I won’t eat them, and hate seeing people eat them.

Second Grade is the start of my downfall in school. I had a teacher who allowed us all the time we needed to get things done and this threw me off for many years to come. This single year led to my ability to be a slacker in most things. Oh and I also saw my first male boy private parts this year. Thank you Jonathan B. for dropping your pants and showing me your “thing” as you called it then. (we talked about this after high school and both remember it funny huh?) Oh a funny note I remember falling down on the playground this year and tearing a hole in my tights and being so scared that I was going to get into trouble with my mom that I didn’t want anyone but the teacher who was helping me to know.

Third grade which is where we will end this chapter was a nightmare, for both myself and my mom. I was still on my I have as long as I want to finish it kick, and my teacher was all about giving you a time frame. This led to me having to sit next to the teacher, and to many nights with my mom at the dining room table. This might also be when my mom and I started fighting and when my poor dad started going crazy with all the girls in the house. I called my teacher mom on a few occasions and I got many spankings this year for bad grades, being hateful to my mom, and just in general being a royal pain. I officially hated school and hated learning and wanted nothing to do with it. My teacher would bribe me to learn by allowing me to go to the activity table if I did good, and or joining in art. We had an amazing art teacher she gave us chocolate once from Switzerland. The year was horrible, yet memorable. My teacher kept my map of Franklin County up in her classroom for many many years to follow. So even though I was a horrible teacher my map made it through and survived.

**These chapters for a while are going to be long.. VERY long and most likely boring to most people and I apologize for that but I want you to each understand things from the very start of how I began to get to where I am today. That includes all the boring stories and boring years of my life. I won’t name everyone in every situation as I’m sure everyone doesn’t wanna be named, and if you read this and your name is there and you don’t want it to be tell me I will remove and rename you. Its the least I can do… Chapter 2 will pick up in 4th grade and go through 6th grade so keep reading things start getting better as the years go by.**

**also I want to thank dooce.com for giving me the inspiration to actually talk about my life in detail and to not be shy about it.**

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 2nd, 2008 at 7:10 pm and is filed under Personal Reflections. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.