Write about your first childhood memory.
I am standing on the sidewalk outside my first house in DeWitt, Michigan. There was a parade rolling by that showcased bright red fire trucks, flag twirlers, pets in wagons, toothy local politicians and marching bands. I remember edging closer to the street and my mother repeatedly yelling at me to get back in the yard. I wanted to be in the parade. I wanted my sister to be pulling me in that over-sized Radio Flyer wagon with streamers dangling behind. Or I wanted to be riding in that shiny new convertible like one of those long Cadillac red convertibles. That day was the first time I saw a convertible.
I mainly remember things that happened outside my first house. I cannot tell you what my room looked like or what kind of furniture was on the screened-in front porch. I remember the gravel driveway and our neighbor’s brown long-haired American Cocker Spaniel chained up to their garage. Regardless of weather, I was usually found sitting next to him and always hated getting in our Chevy leaving him sitting there. Most of my vivid memories are like home-video images of that dog growing from the backseat.