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Today’s #bloganuary question is: “What is the earliest memory you have?”

I thought about this quite a bit today. First and foremost, I was excited to do the illustration because I suck at hands and I wanted to get some practice by working on this girl’s pensive pose. I’m learning that it works best to do one finger at a time rather than going in and out with the lines to create weird mitten fingers. I think I’m making some improvement!

Now that the image is done, I thought I’d share the first memory I have of my father. I think this memory stuck in my mind because I was traumatized to a certain degree. At first anyway.

I grew up in the day when fathers worked and (a lot of) moms stayed at home with the children. My mom was one of them. She fed us, bathed us, and tucked us in at night, so my father was sort of a backdrop to my early years. Until he wasn’t.

So… we had people over for a barbecue in the backyard – and if I try really hard I can almost visualize them all sitting around at the various tables. If my memory is correct (which is questionable), my dad had his back to me and he was standing near the charcoal grill with a long fork or spatula in his hand.

I don’t know what I was thinking, but I picked up a nearby container of liquid and put it to my lips to take a swig. The next thing I knew… my dad was yelling and he slapped it out of my hand. I’m sure that I shrieked! I probably balled too because I’m sure this happened long before I could even talk too much.

Anyway, as it turned out… the liquid I was about to drink was lighter fluid. And I’m pretty sure that my dad saved me from some serious damage that day. Or even death.

I have to add to this by saying that I have one similar memory of my dad. I was a bit older this time. We were at an outdoor mall, and we had to cross various streets as we walked down several blocks of stores. I remember waiting at the light with a large crowd of people, and then the light turned green. I immediately stepped off the curb and my dad grabbed me and yanked me backwards to the curb. Another traumatic event! Sheesh. What was up with this guy??

Just as I landed back at the curb a car sped by at full speed, right through a red light. I can’t say for sure, but I may have felt the wind as the car sped by – just inches away from me (or maybe I’m just adding a little drama).

After my dad died, in 2013, I wrote a letter to him and I thanked him for these things… and so much more (like coming to all of my softball games and cheering me on). I guess a father’s love comes in many ways…. with laughs, smiles, tenderness, snuggles, cheers… and every now and then with a little yelling, slapping and yanking – just to keep us safe.

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Thanks for reading and/or checking out my illustration! I hope you enjoyed!

I’m going to back off of the #bloganuary challenge a little – maybe I’ll shoot for once a week on those prompts. I’m getting a little antsy and hoping to get back to some of my storytelling adventures.

What is the earliest memory that YOU have? Feel free to share!

Peace & Love,
-Janet