Thinking back a couple of years, lets say 30- something, i must say the memories i have have always been very clear to me.
At the age of two… ( you might think being able to remember the most defined things of the past at such a young age is impossible ) but i actually do.
I will never forget the time my parents and i shared a bedroom. At the time they were renovating my room which was across the hallway from the spair bedroom that used ro be my oldest sisters when she was still living with us, but since i was a late arrival with the oldest being 14 years older, she had already left the house.
Standing at top of the staircase i can still see that door opening inward. On the right hand side was my my crib, the parents bed in the middle of the room covered in a blanket in light green and white shades, and a dressing table to the left of the room where i used to spend hours playing with the tilt in mirror on lazy sunday mornings when mom tried tucking me under her covers so i would give her a couple of more minutes in her warm bed.
I’d twirl her hair and would soon get bored reaching for that white tilting mirror on the vanity. I could spend hours openinh and closing both sides so i would see the infinite amount of myself in the reflection.
It fascinated me… ( clearly still does to this day )
The room was very bright, no shades covering the huge window and it was chilly. Probably why i never really enjoyed a cold room to sleep in, nor do i like a bright diffused light smiling at me in the morning.
Mom was certainly happy that she got some well deserved rest, but i was always up to no good.
Which leads to a story that to this day is still the most talked about during Birthday rounds.
I wish i could go back in time to see my moms face when she opened the door to a screaming two year old… i don’t even remember if she laughed or was rather worried.
Living in the German Democratic Republic also known as East Germany back in the days, the variety on toys was not very versatile, but every woman could knit and every child had a doll!
My Grandmother must have made this scratchy green doll sweater that seriously did not give in no matter what you did.
To this day i am convinced that cheap wool she used had not seen fabric softener…. ever!
Unfortunately that did not keep my curiosity of “trying it on” away….
The problem was not actually the fit, rather than getting myself back out again. I must have looked like a fool, stiff but still very flexibel.
I don’t really remember if my mom had to cut me out of it or not, but it still amazes alot of people that i have this memory of such an early stage of my life.
I must say… it is a pretty good one neither mom nor i will ever forget.