Aruna Week 14 - Childhood Memories are Weird
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| https://jang.com.pk/en/34423-why-do-we-forget-our-earliest-memories-scientists-solve-mystery-news |
At first, there was nothing. Then, there was me, standing at the top of a flight of stairs. And then I started toddling into a room. I moved past a couch, past a coffee table, to a desk in the corner where my mother was sitting.
I moved toward my mother knowingly. She hugged me.
I estimate that this was when I was around two, maybe two and a half. This is my earliest memory. I don’t know why. There seems to be nothing significant about it. But it is.
I always remembered it as a sort of first moment of consciousness. A recognition that this world exists, and I am in it. It feels far too deep for a two-year-old, and I don’t entirely trust my own memory—we all know how unreliable memories can be. But this I remember.
Memories from a young age are so weird. They feel like glimpses. I remember a blurry view of inside a mall. I remember being in my own house while an adult—no, I don’t remember which one—told me to go into one room instead of another. I remember the morning before a field trip in preschool when I cried a lot, but I don’t remember what the field trip actually was. These are only a few vague memories, and they are the ones I could actually write about somewhat coherently because I’m somewhat certain about at least a few parts.
Most of my understanding of my own childhood comes from stories passed down through family. There are moments I remember, but I’m not sure if they’re really my own brain’s memories. That blurry image of a mall that lingers in my brain—is it there because I truly remember that moment at a mall, or is it because my parents passed this memory down to me through the stories they told of that day and the pictures they took?
I will never know these answers for certain, and I do not intend to try. Trying to remember my earliest memories feels like grasping at straws, and each passing year, they fade as more recent, important information requires more room in my brain. I don’t go back to my two-year-old self that often, but it’s still fascinating to, no matter how fuzzy these memories get.
Hi Aruna, your post was so beautifully introspective and reflective. I felt like I was walking through your memories with you. Your description of your initial moment of consciousness was so intense; I could really feel the burden and wonder of that moment, even though it was mundane on the surface. I loved how you captured the strange, fleeting nature of early memories. How they come in fragments and feeling instead of whole scenes. Your speculation over whether memories actually belong to you or are leant from images and stories was something I never really thought through before, but now I'm addicted! It’s such a fascinating idea that our understanding of our own lives is part memory, part narrative, and part imagination. Your writing was so gentle and reflective, and it made me pause and think about my own earliest memories in a totally new way. I’d love to read more of your thoughts.
ReplyDeleteHi Aruna! This topic really caught my eye, as it is something that I've thought about before. We never really know when we starting "being" if that makes any sense, since even though we can go back pretty far into our memories, I'd wager that almost everyone is unable to really conjure up their first actual memory. And even then, the memories that do exist are, like you said, fuzzy and we sometimes don't even know if they actually happened. I honestly have a lot of those glimpses of memories that you mentioned, and it's honestly strange how random they are. Some of them are as mundane as this one iPad game about skeletons and some sort of lightning while others were important as my brother's graduation. That last part about going back to when you were little really resonated with me, as although it doesn't come too often, its a breath of fresh air from a simpler time when we didn't have to worry about much.
ReplyDeleteHi Aruna, I really loved how poetic and honest your blog was as it made me feel like a quiet journey back into the foggy dreams. The way you describe the earliest memory not as something extraordinary but also exciting this really stuck with me. Your reflection on whether those memories are truly yours or just shaped a family story and photo hit me hard it definitely look back on a few memories only to realize they might have just been things heard or repeated enough times to feel real. That line about trying to remember being like grasping a straw was a vivid and true memory that all of us hold sometimes. Thanks for this beautiful bug it honestly made me want to go take through all photo albums just to see what might come back to me.
ReplyDeleteHi Aruna! Your blog was written beautifully and is quite relatable as well. There's something about your words that vividly and powerfully expresses those first flickers of memory—how they seem to be insignificant on the surface, yet carry a strange weight on the inside. The way you described the early moment when you found yourself moving towards her and hugged her felt almost dreamlike and deeply emotional. I also find myself remembering just snippets of random events when I was younger, like sitting in front of our goldfish tank with my sister while sharing a bag of Doritos or stopping on the side of the road to pet an adorable cat after a long bike ride from Coyote Hills; of course, they make no great impact on our lives now, but just having these memories allow us to feel connected to a version of ourselves that no longer exists but still lingers in small, meaningful ways. Even if the details blur with time, the emotions tied to those moments stay with us, reminding us of the quiet beauty in simply remembering. I loved reading your blog and I hope to read more in the coming weeks!
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