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31-DAY CHALLENGE
Day Six: First Memory You Have From Your Childhood
It may not be true, but I guess we’ll never know.
Do you remember when our doctors made house calls? I do, or at least I’m pretty sure I do, but science says we don’t remember anything before we’re two and a half. And I was less than one, so go figure. It seems as if it happened only yesterday. I see the situation clearly, but my mother begs to differ. What if she’s right? What if she’s been right all along?
The memory goes something like this. I was itchy, cranky, and writhing in discomfort. That’s when my knight in shining armour arrived at my bedroom door. With firm hands and a gentle tone, my pediatrician spoke to my mother, all the while soothing my polka-dotted skin as he bathed me.
“No doctor’s going to give you a bath,” my mother recently insisted.
“But I remember it,” I countered. “He wiped me with water and made me feel better.”
Mom and I verbally teased back and forth. Both memories askew.
First, we discussed,
I remembered the bath. My mother remembered the doctor’s visit in my bedroom. We both agreed I had chicken pox. If Dr. Rosen was still alive, I presumed he may have settled the draw.
