Early memories.

[rivka]

On my way to work this morning I was listening to my Wylde Nept CD. They sing a song called The Mermaid, which my father used to sing to me on his sailboat when I was very young. I hadn't heard it for twenty years before my first Wylde Nept concert, and the song still powerfully evokes my father in my memory.

As I sang it this morning, my mind drifted to my earliest memory of either one of my parents. I was probably three years old. I was in the nursery at church, crying inconsolably. The nursery teachers must have tried to comfort me, but they don't even impinge on my memory. I just remember crying, and then suddenly having my father there in his bright red choir robe. He squatted down and hugged me, and I was encircled by his knees and his arms, his red robe billowing around both of us. He wasn't holding me tightly, but I was utterly engulfed by his embrace.

I love this memory. It's so secure. I hope my hypothetical future children's earliest memories of me feel this good.

Comments

[bandhiaduit.livejournal.com]

what a powerful memory!
Heck, now I feel like *I* remember your father!

Beautiful, thanks.

[klwalton.livejournal.com]

My dad was in charge of vinegar production at the Hunt-Wesson Foods plant in Hayward, CA.

My earliest memories are of him getting home from work, sitting down on the couch and reading to me as my mother made dinner. I'd cuddle up to the scratchiness of his suit jacket, resplendent with the scents of wool and apple cider vinegar. To this day, the aroma of apple cider vinegar is comfortable and comforting.

[wcg.livejournal.com]

*smile* I'd bet on it. You're going to be a fine mother.