My father had purchased a new toy for me that day. I was amazed and enchanted by it. It was a Spider-man figurine which zoomed down a plastic web, connected between two points. He had set it up high upon the ceiling. To my astonishment, I could watch it zoom past me, its movement accompanied by a tiny whirring noise.
My father was a tall, skinny giant. He had powers clearly unfathomable to me. Like a God, he could touch the ceiling. Or the clouds, for that matter. My father told me it was bedtime, and after setting the toy to zoom by one final time, he sent me to bed.
I remember how very dark my room was. The only light to be found came from the white outline around the closed door. After laying there for some time, I heard something shut, then some footsteps, and finally the unmistakable sound of my mother’s voice. She and my father were talking about something, murmuring fuzzy words. I stood up in my crib, mattress wompy beneath my feet. Holding on to the bars and staring out at the white outline of the door, I was determined to escape and see my mother. It wasn’t so much a whim as a necessity.
The bars were rather close together, but I managed to squeeze my head between two of them, and then one arm, then the other, until I fell with a soft flop to the carpeted floor. I headed toward the light on all fours, then stood up, grabbed the knob and pulled back the door. The light flooded in upon me. It was bright and soft, encompassing me.
I was delighted by my mother’s kind voice, warm and clear. It sounded like the sweet tweetering of a morning bird. She was greeting me, saying hello.
What is your first childhood memory? Is it dramatic? Mundane? I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts!