My Very First Memory

My Very First Memory

Warning: The following story may be disturbing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

My first memory in life is at the age of two. It’s very vivid, as if it just happened yesterday. I was wearing these footed pajamas. They were the same color as my father’s truck and they zipped all the way up the front. I was holding on to my baby doll and sucking my thumb as I played in the bedroom with my brother and my father’s three older sons. They were visiting for the weekend.

My father was home. He was screaming in the next room for my mother to call the police. Someone was outside; they were stealing his light blue truck.

I heard my mother running down the steps to get to the phone.

I remember every little detail. The front door opening and then slamming against the bricks, the gun in my father’s hand, the gunshot, the police car, the glare of the blue and red lights, shining off the bedroom window. The sirens…. I remember it all very clearly. I remember, in the midst of the busyness, being lifted to the top bunk of the beds.

I see it in color, the snap shots, like a video, playing over and over in my mind. The rush of emotions, played out in each scene, I can still conjure up what it felt like in that room. It’s still all to present in my mind, deep-rooted in my senses, the smells, the atmosphere, those around me, the conversations taking place, and me.

Up until that point, adults were good and evil didn’t exist.

I found security wrapped in a blanket, with my brother as my best friend but everything changed that night. My two-year old existence was devoured. It was ripped from the core of my being.

His claws; shredded me like barbed wire, when they grabbed me from behind. My flesh was left trembling in the confusion as my spirit laid; defeated by the fear.

I no longer belonged to me.

My voice was immediately silenced and the room became subdued. My childhood left abandoned to tragedy with a darkness that imprisoned my soul.

No memory precedes this night. No hugs, no kisses, no stories before bed. None.

He smiled, his beastly image, boosting a vicious grin. I felt the intrusion, the poison on my being, the anger unveiling in my veins.

I was trapped.

The choice was not mine. I would no longer live the life that I’d known.

This was my childhood.

He was my father’s oldest son.

© Kerri Bishop Reece | Kerri Chronicles


24 thoughts on “My Very First Memory

  1. Kerri, so sorry for such a loss and such a horrendous heartbreak for a sweet and innocent child. May the Lord continue to bring healing to your soul and to that little girl from long ago.

    1. Thank you so much for your kind words, Sparrow, they are appreciated more than you know and thank you for taking the time to read my post. I will spend my days loving her now, if only to heal myself.

  2. Your writings, your honesty, and being so eager to share your story to help others is such an inspiration to me. I know God has brought you such a long way. What a blessing you are and have been to me & my son. Your blog helps so much….Your faithfulness to God & your obedience to Him is amazing. I love you and so thankful we crossed paths.

    1. Thank you very much, Sandy. The blessing is all mine having you and Mac in my life. You are both such inspirations to me in your eagerness to grown in God’s love, make a difference in the world and share it all with others. Keep up the hard work, Sister!! Thank you for this precious comment and thank you for following my site.

  3. When I encounter such things as this (even when so poetically scripted) I ache for the horrors that humanity inflicts on humans. I send you a virtual hand that wants nothing and has only a piece of peace in it.

  4. 🙂 Please accept this nomination as a token for the sweet moments you have created for me on WordPress…..…Congratulations 🙂

  5. I remember getting up early one morning when I was about four and seeing two men with woolen hats on stealing our TV. They took it out of the back door and put it in a red transit van, they never saw me standing at the elbow of the stairs. I went back to bed, and i remember not wanting to wake my father in case he got into a fight with them. the next thing I know I awoke to talking downstairs and it was my parents talking with the police. I came down the stairs listened for a while then told them I saw them, they never believed me at first, but in the end they did, and where really shocked.

    That wasn’t my first memory, that was two years earlier when two men stole our refrigerator, it was early in the morning and I came down the stairs……..

Why hello, friend! Thanks for sharing your comments. Should you have a question, please feel free to ask it here and I'll do my best to reply promptly. Thanks for stopping by! xo Kerri