The Story of Me: An Autobiography

My First Memory

My first brother was born in June of 1980, which would have made me 2 years and 9 months old when he was born. His birth is my first memory.  Sadly, it's not a happy one.

Here I was, a perfectly happy toddler when, plunk, I am whisked off to my Grandparents house and just left there! Now, my Grandparents really only lived a few miles from my house and I'm sure I saw them often, but I have absolutely no memory of them before this.

So, my parents have dumped me off at my Grandparents house so they could rush off to the hospital to have my first brother, whom we'll call JC. I don't remember actually being dumped off there, but I do remember being SO angry that I was left there so that they could bring home a new baby. I remember clearly being made to sleep in the BIG bed, which really was a just a traditional full sized bed, but to a two year old, it was HUGE!  This bed was located in a 100 year old house and when they made the house they never insulated the bedroom! So, even in June, it was cold in that room. It was cold in the bed. I was SO mad that I was being forced to sleep in this cold bed, in the cold room, just so my parents could bring home a new baby. I remember laying, alone in this room, with the door partially closed, just fuming over the cold room and the new baby. My grandmother would come to check-in on me during the night, with this huge spotlight flashlight. She would shine it all over the room, then at me, as if she was making sure I was still there and hadn't escaped. Every time she came in, she woke me up, which just made me angrier. Nothing like a cranky, angry two year old to welcome a new baby home, eh?

I'm sure this will come as no huge shock, but JC and I never did get along, not even in our adult years. We don't speak as adults and the next time I'll see him will be at our fathers funeral, whenever that may be.