The human memory is a tricky wonderful thing. There are things we think about all the time and things that it takes certain things to dig them out of the far out of reach dusty corner of the memory bank.
My earliest memory was when I was about 3 and it was shortly before Christmas. The tree was up and decorated with gifts under it and I was sitting on the stairs of our Edmonton PMQ (Post Marital Quarters - where married military personnel live with their families) and my dad walked past me with a garbage bag and went to Henry's cage.
Henry was my brothers per Guinea Pig but I don't remember him at all except for this very memory. My dad proceeded to open the garbage back and stuff Henry into it. My dad then told me that everything dies and we all have to go somewhere. Just then my mother yelled at me from outside to get my snow suit on. We (my mom, brother and I) made snow angels that afternoon.
I remember asking my dad at bedtime what happens to us when we die and he said we get buried into the ground. I asked him why he threw Henry away in the garbage instead of burying and he said "pets aren't like people, they don't need to be remembered like people do." I think that was the beginning of my realizing what a mean spirited person my father is.
Tomorrow it 15 interesting facts about me. Wahoo!!!
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