I Don’t Remember

I don’t remember being particularly difficult as a child, but I must have been. I remember my mother becoming absolutely frazzled trying to deal with me. Did I cry when she tried to tame my curly hair? I can see her standing over me with a brush in her hand and a look of frustration on her face. Was I rebellious? I remember “running away” with my cousin – heading down the highway to go someplace where we thought we could ride a horse. I remember how angry everyone was when they found us.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “I don’t remember.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

6 thoughts on “I Don’t Remember”

  1. I don’t remember what I forget. I don’t remember being born, or being three. I frequently don’t remember names. I never forget a face, that’s the problem: I know the face but, I don’t remember their name. It’s “Okay” when it’s an acquaintance or someone from the distant past. I routinely don’t remember names of my closest friends, acquaintances and co-workers.

  2. I don’t remember when I fell in love with him. But I remember when he touched me the first time and I noticed. When it shone bright in my memory as him touching me. I remember the first dream I had of him. But when I fell in love? No.

  3. I don’t remember how I became a cook, relishing in the stir of ingredients in quest of culinary creativity, an activity to sate the soul as much as the palate. It didn’t come from a class, a lesson or a generational hand-me-down. Perhaps from a book. There are a chosen few, sticky, stove burned and smeared with satisfaction.

  4. “I don’t remember.” Seems like an insignificant phrase. But not for Jennifer. I DON’T REMEMBER was the name of the nightmare she woke up in. Life before the accident was a total blank. She couldn’t remember her profession, her husband, her children. Her loss of memory meant her loss of life as she had known it. Everyone knew who she was, except herself…..

  5. “I don’t remember hanging the picture like this!”
    “No, I did it . ”
    My , what defiance!
    “Why?”
    “Because , I like it this way better.”
    I don’t remember ever being so sassy in my childhood. Where has she inherited this rebellious streak from? In spite of my timid upbringing, I smiled and she giggled back, promptly relieved.

  6. “I had a dream this morning before I woke up,” Sam said to his mother as he sat at the breakfast table.
    “What was it about?”
    “I don’t remember, Ma. All I know is that I woke up in a cold sweat.”
    “Maybe someone was chasing you, sweetheart, but I think this is coming about from all those horror films you insist on watching. You should be concentrating more on your school work so that you could put your brain to better use.”
    “You’re right, Ma,” Sam rolled his eyes as he got up from the table, kissed his mother and picked up his backpack.
    As he headed out the door, he took his cell phone and called his friend, Jeremy. “So what are we watching tonight, bud?”

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