Earliest Recollection of My Past

I can't yet recall the first memory that I have, hidden int he back of my mind. Instead, I have an early memory to share, one of my favorites. I spent many of my years as a child in Williamsburg, Iowa with my uncle and his family as well as my grandfather.

Although I have lived in New York for my entire life, I did a lot of my growing up in Iowa, with my cousins. I have helped with soccer practices, jumped on trampolines, and gone to countless state fairs. However, the best memories that I have of Iowa are the ones that I am graced to have with my father, just standing on the porch, listening and watching as the storms roll over the house.

We can see the lights in the sky dim and open as a bolt of lightning spits itself at the ground, and we can imagine the black openings in the sky as huge mouths that are roaring and grumbling in anger, spitting fire at the earth. I am probably all of about five years old at this point, and I can remember seeing my mother smiling as she laughs with her younger brother and his wife in their newly furnished kitchen and my brother and cousins sitting on the floor, putting together their newfound presents from Santa. I loved how the swings would move with the wind and the trees would seem to scream as they were forced from side to side.

I can seem to see these things like they were just yesterday, but I have been told these stories many times over, and I still love to watch the storms roll in. Maybe it's just my imagination and maybe I'm exaggerating the truth, but it may just be the whole truth that this is how I would spend every evening at that house or in that barn.