• jennafrey96

My First Memory


I am not to sure where to start with all of it. I guess Ill bring you to the beginning of it all. (From what I remember.) I cant really recall my first memory, (can either of you?) I do remember random little memories from when I was young, probably 2 years old. One memory that really sticks out to me the most is playing Barbies early in the morning with my little sister. We were in our shared bedroom inside our old trailer house in Poughkeepsie. Alyssa, and I were side by side on the floor. Remember those McDonalds Barbies you would get/see in the Happy Meals back in 1999? Those small little fake plastic dolls with coarse like hair? Sometimes they would have silk dresses or skirts, with painted on bodysuits? Yeah, those Barbies! We had a small bucket of them and dumped them onto the floor (this was probably my idea.) I remember playing with a favored Barbie who had long blonde hair, a dark blue velvet dress, with light blue sparkled designed in the middle. She was so pretty. I loved the blonde hair, so different and light from my brown hair I thought. I laid her down to my right and picked up another Barbie. I was facing my sister who was giggling and talking to herself and another Barbie when my dad came in with a soft hard whisper. "What are you girls doing?" he said, "its way too early and you are being loud." All I remember was looking up at him and looking back down to see my dads bare toe on the velvet dark blue dressed Barbie. I could not take my eyes off his toe on my favorite Barbie dolls dress. Everything went black, silent, I heard nothing and saw nothing, but my dads toe on the velvet dress. "sorry kiddo" my dad said leaving to room, "please be more quite." He shuts the door and leaves the room, leaving behind a faded white dent toe mark on the bottom of the Barbies dress.

I don't remember what happened after that, but from time to time, that exact memory pops in my mind. I use to ask myself 'why?' why that memory? It's not like my father intentionally meant to step on my Barbies dress. He would never! My father is the type to never go out of his way to make someones day worse, he just isn't like that..... maybe it was my fault? I would think. "Maybe I shouldn't have left her by the door to be stepped on?" "Is she mad at me?" "Is she upset that her pretty velvet dark blue dress is ruined?"

This memory, and all these thoughts I had were just the beginning of it all. The beginning of a hard ongoing life lesson for me. Blaming myself for an honest mistake anyone could've made.

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