Our earliest memories are kind of strange, aren’t they? They just exist on their own, without any context around them.
My earliest memory dates back to when I was very young at a rodeo. I can’t recall the exact location or state, but I clearly remember being there with my family. My dad was working as a paramedic, and I got to watch him in action (I think). I believe I was accompanied by my aunt and possibly my grandparents. The venue was enormous, and I vividly recall watching the bulls and seeing people thrown around. Though the details of that memory are hazy, it often comes to mind unexpectedly, and I’m not sure why.
It’s a strange feeling because I don’t really connect with that culture—farmers, rodeos, or homesteading. I have no problem with that way of life, but after experiencing the homesteader’s lifestyle firsthand, I realized it’s not for me.
I often wonder about everyone’s first memories and how they may have shaped their lives. I believe early memories play a crucial role in our development. With this in mind, I strive to create as many meaningful early experiences as possible for my children, so that one day, when they recall those moments, I can share those memories with them and provide context, perhaps filling in the gaps for them.
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