When I was 2, my family moved to Mons, Belgium so that my dad could work at the NATO base.
My dad flew over before the rest of us. So, my mom took four children (including my 6 month old baby brother) on a trans-Atlantic flight. And we were all just getting over the chicken pox. She is a saint. Obviously.
I remember waking up in my car seat when we pulled into the driveway. My mom turned back and announced that we had arrived at our new house.
I think this is my earliest memory. But it was a scene that was repeated so many times in my life. A move, a new house, all of us in tow.
1 comment:
Wow--to have memories like that at 2! I'm nearly certain my earliest memories started at 3. And yes, your mother should be canonized. I'm feeling panicky about simply moving one city away (assuming--fingers crossed--everything goes well)!
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