My First Memory

I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania where I had my first memory.

I was two years old.

I can remember when my family and I first came into that apartment.

It belonged to my grandparents.

I can remember the apartment so clearly as if I’m still there.

I can visualize a kitchen on the left and a pantry on the right.

I can see a long hallway that led straight into their bedroom that had guest rooms and closets along the way and a big grandfather clock.

I can see the living room with a mirror hanging above a wooden framed glass table with pictures and a decorative vase on top next to it.

I can see a wooden desk right next to it with a lamp on top and bills all over the desk.

I can see two couches with flower embroidery and a sea-foam colored chair.

I can see my grandpa sitting on the sea-foam colored chair, reading the newspaper with his wooden cane by his side while watching the stock channel on TV, and my dad sitting on the living room couch holding my brother and I.

I can see my grandma and mom cooking in the kitchen.

I can still remember the overwhelming smell of antique furniture when you first walk in.

I can still remember the scent of my grandma’s Mandel bread at night and French Toast in the morning.

I can still hear the grandfather clock chime every hour.

I can still hear my grandpa’s hoarse voice calling my name.

I can still remember the feeling of being held by him.

I can still remember the happiness I felt to have all the attention focused on me.

I can still remember playing with my grandpa on the living room floor.

I can still remember saying goodbye to my grandparents not knowing it would be the last time I ever saw my grandpa again.

A Reflection on My First Memory

I have never really wrote a reflection in response to my own work before but there was a lot of work that went into this poem. I first got the idea to write this poem from my English teacher Mr. Daszenski as he was just throwing ideas out to the class about topics to write about. At first I had a hard time choosing a topic I wanted to write about but at the moment he mentioned, “your first memory” something in my brain just clicked and I just started writing away. It was as if I had this whole poem memorized in my head and I was just copying it down onto paper.

I’m guessing that I wrote about this particular memory because I’ve had lots of changes in my life this past year from my grandma getting sick and being put into a nursing home, to just going through her belongings in her apartment like pictures, and other documents. After I had my first draft done I felt like it was missing something so I decided to cut and add some parts into the poem. As I was writing my poem I just started daydreaming and my mind went into a trance. I was thinking about so many things at once and somehow I just thought of my grandpa and decided to add some stuff about my grandpa and the old apartment they used to live in. It brought back so many good memories.

When I was done with the essay I showed it to my dad and he just gave me this look like wow and at the same time a look of regret that I didn’t have the chance to get to know my grandpa better. I could see that there were tears in his eyes and it just hit me that I’ve never really written something with so much passion before. I feel that memory of seeing my grandpa for the last time really just “hits the ball out of the park” when people say that you should be thankful for what you have and cherish every moment you have with your loved ones. I think that’s very important and people should be thankful for what they have.