Wednesday, May 7, 2014

The First

My earliest memory takes place in Disneyland.  I was three.  There are fuzzy recollections of It's a Small World After All (the attraction I insisted on riding over and over and over...) and the park with games (we were in LA for some sort of missions work with my parents).  But the clear memory I have is being carried.

I had been promised a souvenir.  This souvenir, specifically:

It was getting late, and we were leaving the park.  My Dad was worried - apparently the place we were staying was in a bad part of town and he wanted to get back before dark. We were nearly at the exit when I asked about my Daisy.  

Daisy.  Everyone had forgotten about Daisy.  So we all turned around and tromped through the park to find the store that had the Daisy that I wanted.  

I don't remember any of that, though.  What I remember was after we got Daisy, and we were leaving the park.  I remember my Dad carrying me.  He was wearing a grey jacket and I remember my head slowly dropping against his shoulder as I fell asleep.  

There was no bad part of town, the park wasn't closing, there was just my dad, carrying me safely home with Daisy in hand.

happy birthday, dad

This post is inspired by my friend, Dani, who shared her earliest memory here.

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