2. Begin with "I remember." Write lots of small memories. If you fall into one large memory, write that. Just keep going. Don't be concerned if the memory happened five seconds ago or five years ago. Everything that isn't this moment is memory coming alive again as you write. If you get stuck, just repeat the phrase "I remember" again and keep going.
I remember the taste of Nana's chicken 'n' dumplin's.I remember sweet tea, my mother's special recipe, more sugar than water, it seems.
I remember our first microwave oven, in the house on Donovan Street. It was huge, the size of an air conditioner. It had its own stand, a thing on wheels with storage underneath.
I remember how nervous we were about it, how we always kept a cup of water in it, for fear it would accidentally be turned on empty and terrible things would happen, mostly to the expensive appliance. We had styrofoam cups around the house.
I remember the Bunn coffee maker that daddy got from work, and the special hot chocolate in packets.
I remember his special experiment he used to show people to dazzle them and get them to join his Amway pyramid. The experiment included a styrofoam cup and some kind of cleaning supplies, something that ate right through the styrofoam cup. I don't think that was the Amway product. But maybe it was. I don't remember. My father liked to do special effects. He caught a styrofoam cross on fire (accidentally) by stringing birthday candles together on top of it. It was for a sermon. He just about burned the church down. Talk about fire and brimstone!
I remember a couple of churches that daddy preached in.
I remember El Campo.
I remember there was a young adult choir, a traveling group of {former} drug addicts who came to our church and sang a concert. It was a small church. It was crowded. A lot of the choir members slept in sleeping bags in the church.
I remember giving a little wooden figurine of Uncle Sam that I sent off for from the back of a cereal box to one of the choir members. I think I had a crush on her.
I remember coming across the autograph of a former wrestler who had turned christian. I didn't remember ever meeting him but am sure he was one of the people my father brought to our little church in El Campo.
I remember our little house next to the church.
I remember a flood while we lived there. I tried to ride my bike home from school and the water was up past the low point of my pedals.
I remember falling over and I remember being afraid that I would get sucked down into a drain where the water was flushing hard.
I remember burning styrofoam behind our house on Wright St.
I remember the way it sounded, the drops of flaming styrofoam as they hit the ground. I was behind the garage, behind the place where daddy had cut out a hole in the garage and built a place for our long Buick to fit so we could close the garage door.
I remember hearing somebody coming and accidentally putting my hand in the way of the falling burning styrofoam. I still have a scar.
That was where I cleaned out my hamster cages. I remember bright green grass, taller in a square patch where I poured out the contents of the cage and the uneaten seeds grew.
