Last Monday, October 6th, I had a memory which probably is the oldest memory I have from my life. I remember I have had this memory throughout my childhood and youth, but I just never remembered in which time to place it.
I remember asking my mum in my childhood if this had happened earlier on. She always told me she knows nothing of this image I have in my head, so suddenly I thought it must have happened before I met my mum, so when I was still with my dad. This sounds really true too.
When I was two or three years old, my dad packed his van with lots of our furniture and then I went on a probably long journey with him. We winded up in Glasgow eventually. I still have memories which I can’t place, like islands, like boats, and so on. It is this packing of his orange van I remembered. I guess we’ve slept in that packed van for I-don’t-kn;ow-how-long.
It strikes me very odd that a child of three can produce memories for life. But than again, it must have been a trauma for me, and when children have traumas they are likely to remember traumatic images. I have got other memories too of images that will touch my heart forever.
Paws