So I had this idea floating around in my head and I just had to get it down. Each chapter is going to be another phase of Sara's life told in her own words. I hope you enjoy!! Oh and like MSCSIFANGSR said, "Long live GSR."
What is your first memory? If you think back, how far can you go? Do you remember something from when you were 3, maybe 4? My earliest memory was when I was four. Most people like to reminisce about their earliest memory. I am the opposite. I can remember one night while taking a break Catherine mentioned that Lindsey was doing an essay on her earliest memory. This led those in the room to talk about theirs. Nicky shared that he thought he was about three when his sisters had used him has their Barbie. They'd put bows in his hair, and put him in a dress. Even though that memory was embarrassing you could tell that Nicky found it funny and remembered it fondly. Warrick talked about running from his mother into a casino and hiding under some abandoned card tables.
"It must have taken her at least an hour to find me. Had all of the hotel security looking for me."
"What happened once she found you?" Catherine asked.
"Let's just say that as I child I was too afraid to play hide and seek with my friends," he answered with a chuckle.
I pretended to be engrossed in some forensics magazine I was reading so they wouldn't ask me to share. Luckily they left me alone. But the whole conversation got me thinking about what really was my earliest memory? Yes I remember it now, I was four. My mother had asked me if I wanted to bake cookies with her. What child would say no? Half way through our second batch baking in the oven my father came home. He asked my mother if dinner was ready and she told him that leftovers were in the fridge and that she hadn't cooked because we had baked cookies. I remember walking up to my father trying to hand him a cookie.
"Here you go daddy, for dessert."
He'd taken the cookie out of my hands and thrown it across the room. Then he proceeded to throw all the finished cookies on the counter onto the floor. The when he had no cookies left to throw he thought he'd use my mom. At that age I couldn't understand why my father was hitting my mother. She hadn't done anything wrong. She'd just baked some cookies. I had tried to ask my father why he was hitting my mom but that just got me thrown into the counter. He had thrown me by my wrist and I knew that when I landed something didn't feel right. My mother had taken me to the hospital and had told them I fell down the stairs and that's how I broke my wrist. One thing you learned fast in my family: how to lie and how to do it convincingly. To this day I've never been able to bake my own batch of cookies.
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