Blog Challenge Day 4: My Earliest Memory

So apparently I wasn’t up to the daily challenge, but I chalk it up to life happening. You set goals and you work every day reach them. Sometimes things come up. I’ve been up to something that is very important to me (finding my birth parents), so the blog took a back burner. And that’s okay.

My Earliest Memory

My earliest memory is a hazy picture of me hiding under a table from my big brother. Despite being 10 years apart we still played together.

My First Real Memory

My first real memory is of the Loma Prieta earthquake in September, 1989. I was writing something about cats when everything began to shake. Books were falling off shelves and the chandelier above the kitchen table swung from side to side. My mom and I hung out in a doorway until the shaking stopped, and then again during the aftershock.

Mostly, I remember things that would stand out to a three year old. A door mirror, yet hung fell and smashed on the hallway floor. I wasn’t even allowed to walk down the hallway after my brother cleaned up the mirror shards because there was no electricity to make the vacuum work.

In my mind, I can see my mom running to hug my brother when we came home from Jr. High. I can taste the PB&J sandwiches we ate during a candle-lit dinner. My dad didn’t come home until the next day, as he was across the San Francisco Bay at law school.

Even hindsight isn’t 20/20 for this memory. The lasting impact of the earthquake wasn’t the restructuring of the Bay Bridge, or the millions of dollar in damage it caused, but the lack of fear I felt.

That could have been really scary, but it wasn’t. And it was because of my mom. Once the earth was done shaking she got up, cleaned up, and never appeared rattled. She wasn’t scared, so I wasn’t scared.

Yes, life happens. Things happen. The earth shakes and the storms rage, but we get up and we move on.

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