I was thinkin the other day – simply because i have just now begun to do so – and I had a conversation with my good friend at work. We were talking about memories, and how they are skewed. I told her that I didn’t have many memories of my childhood, because I didn’t have a mom to tell them to me. I think thats true. I think that all of our childhood memories are simply stories that we have made up images too in our little minds to help us remember dumb stories that our parents thought were simply the cutest little things ever. For example, when i was like 5 i cut up a dress my mom had bought me for easter. I got a spankin. My mom told me that was the worst spankin that i ever got. I always tell the story and its “title” is the “Only spankin i ever really remembered”.. which is not true. When i sit and think back really hard – i do not remember it. I have no visual of it. I cannot nor could not tell you the color of the dress, the size sissors or where it happened. I could tell you where, and what the room probably looked like, simply cause i lived at the house for a few years but i dont personally remember it. But my mom does. She knew exactly what it all looked like – and she told me, and i adapted those thoughts, her images, as my own. I think this happens with a lot of our stories of the little selves we used to be. I think a great deal of our childhood memories belong to someone else, and we dont really own them. So please!!! enjoy the memories that you have or have been given by your parents, because mine are few because i dont have anyone here to tell me what cute or obnoxious things i did as a child. I will never know, not until i get to Heaven, and by then i won’t stinkin care. I’ll be walkin on gold, who would care?