I’ve always thought that my childhood was a happy one. Now I’m no longer so sure. Because I’m low on money, I have been trying to come up with low cost ideas for presents. This one I got from flylady.net, and this is a paragraph from the site describing this idea:
“I got this off the Fly Lady website last year and did it for my parents: Make a memory jar. I wrote one or two sentence memories from my childhood on my computer (15 minutes at a time) and over the course of a few weeks I had 365 memories to share. I printed them off on a variety of colored paper, cut them into strips (one memory per strip) and put them in a mason jar, decorating the lid with a piece of cloth from a childhood outfit my mother made me. A fun by-product of this was that I really enjoyed stirring up all those old memories and sharing them with my kids as well as my parents. My parents have repeatedly told my how much they enjoy this gift! They take one memory out at breakfast together and chuckle over what I wrote, and sometimes their own memories are jogged. This is a gift that keeps on giving! – Fly Baby in MN”
Hey, a great idea, I thought. I’ll fill that jar in no time! But the thing is that I can’t come up with lots of happy memories from my childhood. I only come up with bad memories, and I do not want those in the jar. So far I have 21 somewhat happy memories from my childhood, and I do not want to even count the unhappy ones. It has taken me days to get even this far, and I’m afraid there is no way I can get up to 365 ever. At least not before Christmas. Maybe my childhood was not such a happy one. All I seem to remember are the bad things and something mundane like having to eat oatmeal porridge every morning for 18 years – that’s not really a happy memory in my book. I can’t remember being especially unhappy, but it seems I wasn’t really happy either. We had such a “good family”. I was such a “good girl”.