My First Childhood Memory.........maybe

I remember all sorts of things about the first house I knew as a child. The problem is I'm not sure which memory is the first one. Here is one of the many that could be my first.

Our house was yellow (later painted blue) and it was on the cul-de-sac on Michael Dr. near Portland, OR. The hot summer days were perfect on the back porch or rather a concrete slab that was surrounded be a large green fenced in lawn. There was a swingset with a lookout tower and a slide. My mom had a little raised garden and there was a small shed next to that. We adopted a cat that lived under that shed. On one hot summer day my mom's friend Mary and her daughter Aliesha, who we called Shasha, came to hang out. Shash was a year older than me, but I don't think I knew that at the time. Shasha, my brother Ben, and I were all given homemade grape popsicles. We would take the outside chairs apart by removing the cloth that help the wooden frame up and turn the chairs upside down and line them up. We would each sit in the space created by the overturned chairs. And create a bus or train and eat our popsicles. Our mouths, tongues, lips, fingers, and clothes turned a nice purple pink. The refreshing purple grape ice felt so good to eat in the summer.

"Caress the detail, the divine detail." - Nabokov