fuzzy memory

Way back in a very early post I marveled at how the writers of memoirs remembered things in such detail. Things like conversations and what they were wearing at the time. I am not convinced that people can really recall things as vividly as they can write them, but it is amazing what comes back when you start to put it down.

When I was very small, younger than three, we lived in a house at the edge of our little town. It was literally on the edge, a wheat field butted up against our backyard. We had a huge swing set that my dad made. It probably wasn't as big as it is in my mind, but he used tractor seats for the glider. Imagine getting clobbered by one of those

 I think we had one of those sandboxes in an old tire. I have a memory of the backs of my legs getting pinched by cracked rubber.

My dad doesn't play a starring role in my early memories but I clearly remember one afternoon when he called to me from across the yard, I could see he had something cupped in his hands. He spread his thumbs apart and I could see tiny little rabbit ears. I was delighted and instantly had to hold it.Of course I squeezed too hard and the baby bunny screamed like only a baby bunny can. My dad took it back, and I guess he let it go in the wheat field.

That is pretty much what I remember and I think it is mostly true.