Early memories.
Sep. 10th, 2002 12:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rivkaOn 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.
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.
