More Early Memories

When I was 3, I colored my lips with my cousin Tara’s purple magic marker. “Pretty,” I said, “pretty.”

My younger brother Paul and I used to ride the sit ‘n spin together until we were both lying sick on the floor. He was afraid of fire engine noises, so every time we heard sirens my mother would go running into his room.

I saw a mouse in one of our cupboards. I was so stunned, I couldn’t even speak, so my mother knew I’d seen something.

Paul used to tell me there were eyes in his closet, peeking at him in the night. He loved lawn mowers and the color orange. Desmond loves the color orange.

In my Mass accent, I told a lady on the beach: “Mum fahts but she doesn’t want anyone else to know.” Don’t worry, she got me back later on.

I crawled all over the benches and kneelers in church.

The first book I ever read was called “Hi, Little Bird.”

I used to create “Smurf books” from stapled construction paper. Those were my first writing experience.

I was Mary in the Christmas pageant at school.

I had a boyfriend in preschool: the only one I would have until 10th grade. He held my hand everywhere and once told me about bloodsuckers during a fire drill.

When I asked my dad where I got my red hair, he used to tell me: “The postman.” I interpreted this to mean the postman delivered my hair to me in a cardboard box when I was a baby. So when a sweet, elderly lady asked me one day where I got my red hair, guess what I told her.

I had a best friend in first grade. I never could pronounce or spell her last name. Still can’t.

I peed all over the stairs at my preschool because I waited too long to go to the bathroom: I was too busy putting construction paper holly berries on my Christmas wreath. They put me in a diaper and my mom was pissed.

My father let me put my barrettes in his hair and when I put the hand mirror in front of him, he would make the same scary monster face I make when Aislyn shows me a mirror.

A nun told me to sit down and shut up in first grade. I was pretending to be the Statue of Liberty, holding my torch in the air, and the nun thought I was raising my hand to recite a prayer we were learning.