When I think of my childhood I have such fond memories. Good memories. Great memories. I had great friends and lots of great times. It’s funny, when I ask my husband about his childhood he remembers very little. He doesn’t describe his memories as vivid and detailed as I do mine. He, like myself, had a great childhood as well. He just doesn’t remember his, I guess, as much as I do mine.
He’s not the only one who’s memories of their earlier years are kinda hazy. I still talk to old childhood friends and when I bring up a certain time, or memory, not all of them recall it. I’ve often been told my memory is freakishly good. I have memories (not a ton of them, but a couple) of being two years old and younger. I’ve described memories or a certain time to my Mom and she was amazed I remembered something from a time when I was so young. Continue reading