Everybody walks a different path in their life. You have your journey and l have mine. My siblings find it strange that l don’t remember much of my early childhood. They don’t understand how l could forget important family events like how we celebrated the christimas holidays or grieved and buried our dead. They get even more confused when l fail to recollect memories of my first day at school or put together their birthdays. Why do l not remember? Why is everything such a blur when it is so vividly clear to others? I know l do not have amnesia and neither am l an old woman whose memory has been eroded by old age. Do you think l am deliberately blocking childhood memories to avoid telling you the truth? Some events in our lives are just not important or – are they, really? Why should l remember my first day at school or my brother’s birthday when l am not his mother? How can l be expected to remember the names of dead relatives if l do not know how l was as a child? Did l ever smile or play children games? I have already said some memories are more important than others. I can still smell the fresh blood of my first menstrual cycle, the boys’ laughter when l stained my dress uniform at school – the peeing in my chair when the repeated visits to the toilet were denied by my primary class teacher. How can l forget my mother’s scolding and insults – my deliberate seduction of Agrippa, the son of my father’s mistress? How can l not remember being rescued by my first love or – did l really have a first love? Oh, yes – Jim West! Jim West, the cowboy?? I was in my sixth grade – no, my seventh grade and walking home with a school friend. She was ranting about this new boy in class and how she was in love with him. I was thirteen years old and supposed to be an innocent virgin with acceptable, hot crushes over boys my own age. My friend thought l had gone crazy when l confided to her about my boyfriend who made love to me every night. ” Jim West, the cowboy? ” she asked. ” Yes, ” l admitted boldly. ” But – Jim West is on t.v. ” she said. ” l know – ” l smiled, ” Jim comes out of t.v. every night to be with me. ” l remember all the humiliation and shame which accompanied my thirteenth birthday. Everything else before that is only a blur and…this is my story.

http://imagineartafter.org/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/digg_24.png http://imagineartafter.org/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/reddit_24.png http://imagineartafter.org/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/stumbleupon_24.png http://imagineartafter.org/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/delicious_24.png http://imagineartafter.org/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/google_24.png http://imagineartafter.org/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/myspace_24.png http://imagineartafter.org/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/facebook_24.png http://imagineartafter.org/wp-content/plugins/sociofluid/images/twitter_24.png