In my earliest memory, I remember sitting on a silky robe on the floor of my mom’s room. It was the space between the bed and the closet door. The closet doors are mirrors. My mom is dressing me up for fun. The silky robe is hers and it’s red and white. It’s floral or just nature-ish with trees or something. There were beaded necklaces. I can’t remember if they were around my neck or if they were on the ground and I was playing with them. They were long. Long beaded necklaces. And shoes. High heels I think. I’ve seen so many pictures of this, and I’m trying not to mix up my memories and the pictures. I faintly remember looking in the mirror at myself and people being behind me laughing and clapping like you do to get a baby to do something cute.
I don’t think of this memory that often, but I’m happy I did today. I’ve been trying really hard lately to think of memories where I remember my mom in them. She complains sometimes about never being in the pictures of us growing up because she was always the one holding the camera. And I guess being in a picture is nice in a way. But I think giving the memory of being cooed over and played with and dressed up and getting all that undivided attention that’s so hard to give when you have more than one child is really nice too.