I am taking Jessica Sprague's Stories in hand class over on Jessicasprague.com. (Duh, I guess you could tell that from the title.)
So far, it's a pretty neat class. She has given us hundreds of prompts in order to "spark" stories. These are stories that we want to tell in some way, maybe through our blog, maybe through scrapbooking (maybe both!). She's basically developed a place to keep these stories as we think of them.
I'm a few days behind, and I'm working in the Roots section of our prompts. One that really caught my eye was, "What is your earliest memory?" Mine is kind of weird, but it's pretty vivid. I was about 3 at the time.
From the time I was born until just before my 4th birthday, we lived in a single-wide trailer at the end of a dirt road. As anyone who has ever lived in a trailer knows, they generally aren't well insulated. All kinds of little creatures can get in if they really want to. We constantly had mice, bugs, etc.
On this particular afternoon, I was sitting on my bed in my teeny-tiny room eating bacon bits out of the jar (I know, weird! I warned you!). Suddenly, a little mouse ran across my bed.
Clearly, he/she smelled the bacon. I screamed like a little girl. Mind you, I was a little girl, but still. My mom came running into the room, worried that I had hurt myself. My mom always thought I was going to hurt myself. I guess I was a little clumsy.
Not a very lengthy memory, but very vivid, and the earliest I can remember. I learned an important lesson that day: if you're going to eat Bacon Bits straight out of the jar with a spoon, do it in the kitchen.
Or on someone else's bed.
Or maybe I shouldn't have been eating Bacon Bits straight out of the jar AT ALL. I don't know. The moral of the story is a little fuzzy at this point.
All I know is, I never want breakfast in bed.