Once upon a time...

She started collecting memories

How could I not start this off without sharing my very first memory? Picture it, probably the summer time of 1977 and sweet little baby me is at Mawmaw's house. She is looking for me. I'm hiding behind the sheer polyester curtains in the living room. She'll never find me here. Dang, she found me. All thanks to my stinky diaper. Traitor! Cut scene. That's the gist of my very first core memory. Apparently, I did not enjoy having my diaper changed. I probably wanted to do it myself. I bet that was the start of my being very independent.

Let's discuss my Grandaddy. A few of my favorite memories of him are mostly comical. LIke driving down the road with him and if he looks at something either to the right or left that is where we are headed in the near future... yikes! Or, what about that time I walked with him to the corner store? There were some chairs in there for the older men to sit around and visit. We sat down, me on a chair next to him. I was probably 5 or so and wearing shorts. Well, not long after sitting down a wasp decides to land on my thigh and Grandaddy see's it and proceeds to take his over 6 foot of a man hand and smack it on my leg. The wasp proceeded to sting me before it died. Thanks, Grandaddy. My hero... but nothing compares to my next memory of hanging out with him.

My Grandparents raised chickens back in the day, They had two chicken houses, Since they watched me while my parents worked I would tag along with them during their daily tasks. So, on this particular day Grandaddy and I hopped in his pickup and headed down the gravel drive towards the chicken houses.. I had to have been around 4 years old. Wearing my red bathing suit and cowboy boots. He took care of his chores and before we headed back this man decided to do something sweet for his Granddaughter. He grabbed this grey bucket that must have once held chicken feed or something. The bucket was pretty tall for a bucket. He fills it with water from the hose and places it in the center of the bed of his pickup truck. The center. He then places me into the bucket of water. I really loved playing in water as a child so I'm sure he knew I would enjoy this treat on a hot Georgia day. I specificaly remember that he left the tailgate down as he walked to get in the truck. Starts it up. So far so good. Well remember that gravel driveway we rode down to get there? Well as we started back up this gravel driveway the grey bucket full of water and child tipped over and rolled right off the back of the pickup truck crashing to the ground. I don't recall what happened next. I imagine tears were shed. Glad we can all laugh about it now!

Eventually, I started Kindergarden and was absolutely devasted to leave the "safety" of my beloved Grandparents. Luckily, the Lord was looking out for me and I met one of my very best friends on the first day of Kindergarden. She was beautiful. Porcelain skin and long brown very thick hair. Her eyes would twinkle when she smiled. This girl got me through some tough years all throughout our 12 years! One thing that totally ticked me off as we started off our Kindergarden careers was this one boy in my class. E-ver-y morning he would have his little square box of chocolate milk. I distinctly remember the smell of this box, milk and straw combo that several kids would drink as we all sat criss-cross apple sauce (back then it wasn't called criss-cross applesauce btw) on the floor. I passed because I despised milk. Just poor me a cup of coffee please. Back to that kid. Well he would drink all of his milk and while we are all still sitting on the floor he would puke. Every time. Every day. Apparently, he was lactose intolerant, but I'm no doctor. I'm just a disgruntled 5 year old wishing to be anywhere but in this room. Now, this next memory could be controversial, but in Kindergarden each child would be called up to the teachers desk during naptime to be tested periodically. On this particular day, I went up there and recited my ABC's then she asked me to count as high as I could go. Sigh, I was not feeling very motivated so I said I could count to 20 even though I could count to at least 100. She couldn't hide her disappointment as I started counting and then that was it. I marched back to the table that I was laying under for nap time and lay down on the cold hard floor. Anticipating the strong odor of urine that would fill our nostils during naptime as the troubled little boy under the table near by would pee his pants in his sleep.

No matter how sad, comical, or sweet these memories are that pop up in my mind, I cherish them as they are the building blocks of me. Sometimes I learn from them and sometimes I don't. I strongly believe that everything happens for a reason. People come and go out of our lives for a reason. Tomorrow is not promised so treat everyone with kindness and build those memories so that one day when you're not around your children, friends and loved ones will have memories of their own to cherish.