I remember learning to walk.
I know this seems hard to believe, but I do. It is too vivid a memory to just be something my family told me about. I really remember it.
My great-grandmother and all my grandparents were there. My parents and a couple sets of aunts and uncles were there. They were all sitting or kneeling in a circle and I was crawling around in the middle of them. One of them would call my name and I would push or pull myself up onto my feet and I would start to walk to them, but then I would fall down. Immediately there was a bunch of "ohh"s and then someone else would call my name and I would be helped onto my feet and I would start to wobble over to them.
"Come over here Charlie... you can do it!"
"Over here, Charlie!"
"Almost, Charlie... there you go!"
My parents' shag carpet was a rusty orange color. The wall-paper had huge cartoon-like flowers on it of similar colors. Is that why my favorite color is orange? Is your first memory directly responsible for your likes and dislikes? Is this memory the reason why I don't pay attention (as well as I should) to when people call me or want me to do something for them?
I did eventually get the hang of the whole walking thing. And according to my mom, I never stopped. I wanted to walk everywhere. I didn't want to ride in the stroller anymore. I didn't want to be carried. I didn't even want to hold anyone's hand when we went places. I yelled and screamed when an adult would grab my hand to cross the street.
I still have that go-go-go mentality. I don't like staying in one place for very long. I don't know why I've stayed in Buffalo for as long as I have. I need to pick myself up and go.