Freewrite #2

 I remember when I used to shake my tiny little rump in from of that jet black thick screened television, attempting to sing and dance with Arthur, or Raffi, looking back now, I realize that I in fact, had no idea what the words were, I just liked to think I did. I remember the struggles and arguments I had with my all my family members, never able to just accept one another as we are. I remember reading my first book, “Larry the Camel”-of course, it was a picture book, with at the most three lousy words on a page.  I remember learning to write my name. I would always write E’s with four ugly, crooked stems sticking out. I remember when I used to play peek-a-boo with my baby brother, and the adorable faces he would make every time I removed the stringy burp rag from in front of my face. 

I remember when my sister and I, after a rainstorm in the fall, would go outside with our matching Landsend raincoats, and rain boots, and collect the rain. We would take our fire truck red and our mustard  yellow sand pales and place them underneath the roof so that the rain would drop right into our pales.  I remember we use to sit outside and just watch rain droplets and when they landed in your pale, you would jump up, cheer and swing your fists in excitement, while the other would just watch a glare at you. 

I remember when my little brother, my sister and I, all made a rock band and wrote our own songs.  We called ourselves the Blue Monkeys, we wore this gross blue lipstick, which we caked on, and we thought we were hardcore, and cool. 

I remember when those blow up backpacks, gel pens, Razrs, and Ferbies were in.  I remember when it was a huge competition, and how we always wanted to be able to “top” our friends’ toys. I remember when my dad used to put me to bed, and would sing Hello Dolly-I was so amazed at how much he sounded just like the man. 

            I remember when I went to my best friend’s dad's house, and we walked about ten miles in 9o degree weather, to a one of a kind convenience shop, just to buy a box of Crayola chalk.  I remember when we took that chalk and we drew all over the basement walls, and how much fun we had.  I remember how we felt like such troublemakers because we were drawing on the walls of someone’s house. 

I remember when I went to the boardwalk with my grandparents and I wore a swimsuit with a triangular shaped back, and how my grandma forgot to put sunscreen in that triangle, and how I got a gigantic triangular scab, and how to this day, she claims that did.  Memories make up ones life, good or bad, we choose to keep, and cherish them, or forget and discard them.  In my eyes, the memories I have make up me, and help me to define who I am.