Memory - How Far Back Can We Remember?

That's me, front and center, drinking my favorite soda back then, 7-UP. I remember being fascinated that with a drink that had all of those delicious bubbles yet was see-through at the same time. This was back when I had straight hair. I have no idea how that happened, because it is now forever unruly, frizzy, and curly in all whichever directions it wants to go. I think I was in 1st or 2nd grade during the time of this photo.

I do remember trips like this. Maybe not necessarily this exact trip, but the fact that our family loved to head out on the weekends to explore the great and very hot state of Arizona are firmly stuck in my book of childhood memories.

Six of us, station wagon with fold up kid seats in the way back, sometimes a dog or two, mandatory stops at a convenience store for snacks and drinks, and dust. Lots of dust. It was the desert, after all. What else was there but cactus and dust?

My memories go back further than this trip.

Kindergarten for me was in Cle Elum. Before that, I remember living in Yakima. Vague glimpses of a house over on 11th Avenue are in my mind, along with a special friend across the backyard fence. I loved going to her house because she had a play kitchen. Her name was Zoe. I had to have been 3 or 4. My brother was a baby in that house. There are pictures of us dressed up for church on Easter. And there is another picture of me on my birthday. I remember the flooring, of all things.

Memories can amaze or confuse us, clear things up or muddy the past. Some of the things I remember are recalled with different details by my siblings (and my parents). That goes with the territory, since all people live through life events while wearing their own set of rose colored glasses.

I am glad to have my memories. Enlightening is the pastime of gazing back in time, digging deeper and deeper, to find those earliest of memories. Bittersweet, nostalgic, funny, sad, and all sorts of feelings dwell between then and now.

But those are my memories, a part of me. It's who I am.

How far back can you remember? What is your earliest memory?

I'd like to know.

Baby me, about six months old, crying on cue for the photographer. Mom says I would make facial expressions on command. My photo sits on the mantle between my bronzed baby shoes.

Angie Quantrell is thankful that the Lord has blessed her over the many years of her life. He has kept her through thick and thicker. Angie's life journey continues to be a new adventure every morning.