"My First Memory" by Lola Lane

"What is your first memory?"

I hate this question. Does anyone really, truly know their first memory? Probably not. I have a lot of memories, but I couldn’t tell you my first. However, I have an answer to the “my first memory” question, so I don’t look lame at parties. I was around four, which I know doesn’t fit scientifically because apparently I was supposed to have my first memory by two, but, alas, my first remembered memory was at four. It was a dreary, rainy day. It must have been a Saturday, because my dad wasn’t working and my mom was. As my dad had to handle two crazy kids on a rainy day, he decided to take us to a movie. I remember we went to “Mom’s Apple Pies” first, and I got a smiley face cookie. This wasn’t just any cookie. This was the kind of cookie you bow down to. You see, when I was a child, my father wouldn’t buy as anything that was considered excessive. The answer to any cool toy, concession, or cookie was a solid “no”. So, you can see my excitement at being able to procure such a magnificent cookie.

I thought my life could not get any better, but then it did. My dad took us to the movies, the movies! It was the “Wizard of Oz”. I like to think that this is where my first memory kicked in. The colors in the movie were so vivid and pretty, I was fascinated. Specifically, I remember watching Dorothy just strutting her stuff, and then I remember an urge to eat my cookie. Once I started thinking about the cookie, I couldn’t stop. I had to find a way to eat it, without getting reprimanded. This wouldn’t have been THAT big of a deal if my father hadn’t told me to hide the cookie when going into the theater, as so it would not be confiscated from my gluttonous clutches. This was crucial; I hid that cookie well.

But now, I really wanted to eat the cookie, so very badly. I didn’t want to get caught, at all. I was a good kid, I knew the difference between right and wrong. I knew what happened on “Lizzie McGuire” when she gets in trouble; she gets a detention. This was much bigger than detention, though. This could mean jail, or worse. But the cookie was smiling at me. It looked so good and sunshine-y yellow. I still had the taste of vanilla with a hint of lemon in my mouth from the piece I had eaten before the movie started. I had to have it. 

So, I thought the only way I could get away with this horrible act, was to make sure not a soul saw me. I found my chance, and took it. I slowly lowered myself to the gross, grimy, floor that belonged to the theater. I couldn’t care less; I was in a safe haven to eat my cookie with a calm mind. When my dad saw me, I remember passing it off like I was hiding my eyes from the terrifying flying monkeys. I felt like such an outlaw, but that was outweighed by the delicious taste of victory, with just the slightest hint of lemon. I wish I could say that this experience helped me lead a life of being a cool kid who breaks all the rules, but it didn’t. Life moved on, I became a good kid, and this memory has always been identified as my first.