A shaft of sunlight across my bed in the morning.
If my curtains weren’t closed fully, it always woke me, making me call for my mother or father.
They always wanted to turn my bed around, but apparently I cried whenever they attempted it.
I would have been about 3 years old.
Submitted by Duncan Jason.
Waking to see my black cat – whom I’d decided to call Spot, for some reason – lying sprawled on my bed.
He seemed so long, stretched out alongside my 5 year-old body.
I reached out to tickle his belly and he scratched me on the hand.
Years later, my Mum told me she thought I’d seriously hurt myself when she heard my blood-curdling screams!
Spot is long gone, as is the scratch.
I still love cats.
Submitted by Maureen Smith.
Hiding in the wardrobe as the thunder crashed and the lightning flashed.
I can remember the smell of the mothballs my granny used, and the feel of the polyester dresses she used to wear.
Even after the stormed passed, I wouldn’t come out until my Mum was fetched.
I was four and a half.
My older siblings still tease me about being scared of storms.
And they still scare me.
Submitted anonymously.
My family loved to play card games.
At Christmas, uncles and aunts and grandparents would visit our family home.
After tea in the evening, a pack of cards would be brought out and we’d play Gin Rummy for hours.
It was the 1970s.
I can still picture the curling smoke of my Dad’s cigarettes and Granddad’s pipe; the Battenburg cakes and crusts from the sandwiches sitting on plates, uneaten.
I would have been about 6 years old.
I hardly play cards now.
Does anyone?
Submitted by Yvonne Shelding.
My mother and I watching TV inbetween the times she played the guitar and
I tried to strum.
One of the earliest TV images I can recall was a grainy video clip of a single sunflower on Sesame Street, on a ledge, on a cloudy grey day.
I found that video many years later on YouTube.
Submitted by ‘Mouse’, who blogs here, and also curates The Map Of Lost Places.
Being sucked through a thin, white tunnel with a black border at the top and
bottom, then waking up on a couch, not remembering anything before that moment.
I saw my cleaning lady, whose identity completly vanished to me at that time.
After, I remember going into my mom’s room where I asked who the lady was and what her name was.
Submitted by Fabian Mastrapa.
Being in a stroller with my parents in a wooded area, and them having to pick me up to get over a white fence in front of a small stream.
I was 2 at the time, and she and dad were heading to a graveyard to do some genealogy work.
Submitted by Landon.
I remember being in a room with aluminum, silvery colored walls in Cambridge, MA, while being held by my mom.
It turns out I was part of a psychology experiment for a grad student at MIT.
I wish I knew what the test was about.
I’ve been told I was one when this happened, which dates it to about 1995.
Submitted by Ben Fencer.