My Earliest Recollection
A lifetime ago, our house sat in a vast open field. A dirt road appeared to be the only means of escape from this expanse—that is, to a three-year-old.
music: "Lovely Piano Song" - Rafael Krux
One spring morning, sitting in the driveway, I felt gigantic, fiddling with my small white dump truck. I likely experienced my only delusion of grandeur.
As I was playing, I noticed a speck of dust bobbing on the horizon. It became more prominent and later mutated into a wizened bent-over old man. He was limping at a glacial pace.
Eons later, he stopped in front of our house. Leaning on his walking stick and wearing a stern expression on his face, he kept wagging his finger at me. His lips were moving, but it was all gibberish to my ears. He could have been scolding me for playing without parental supervision. For all I know, he might have been the neighbourhood screwball.
His rantings didn’t impress me much, for I returned my attention to the fate of the tiny truck driver. Hours or perhaps several minutes later (one can’t discern time at such a young age), I looked about, but he was no more. Did he revert into a fleck of dirt? Did he continue his journey to the next house and harangue another innocent victim? Was he run over by a massive version of my toy and thereupon hauled away? Only God knows, but she’s too busy dealing with more important things than to answer these mundane queries.
This childhood flashback is the earliest one I can recall, and despite it being long in the tooth, it remains as vivid as ever. I still feel that spring morning air kiss my face, and remember the sharp colours that surrounded me.
Perhaps this memory is front and centre among all others because (as a toddler) I felt 100% stress free throughout the entire event. It’s a sensation that has eluded me ever since.
