I remember..I don't remember: childhood

I remember...juice boxes, rolly pollies, cotton candy, my grandpa's camera, roller blades, 4th of July parties, sleepovers, construction paper, good books, pool parties, braces, carnival rides, lip syncs, junior high dances...

I remember the sound of the white ice cream truck coming around the corner
I don't remember the name of that wonderfully sticky spicy-sweet Mexican candy it sold
I remember Big Sticks, Push Pops, Neopolitan ice cream
I don't remember thinking that these had sexually suggestive names
I remember scorching summer soccer games, pizza parties, handmade scrunchies
I don't remember the trophies, awards, or what place we came into each year

I remember being afraid of the dark as a little kid—so much so, that it has slightly carried over to my present age. When it was time for bed, I’d jump onto my mattress, shimmy my body under the covers, and pull the bedspread up over my ears but under my chin, like the way my grandfather used to tuck me in. Then, I’d squeeze my eyes shut, daring a peek now and again into the lighted hallway and dark corners of my room to make sure nothing was lurking there just waiting to grab me. I dared myself to keep my eyes open, longer still, until I couldn’t take the fear any longer and slammed them shut again. I’d hold so still during these nights, that my long-sleeved pajamas would become damp with the sweat of anxiety that only a little kid can truly conjure up by imagination.

I don’t remember every single tantrum that I threw when I was little, but I’m still told, at age 21, what a brat I was as a young child. I do remember being frustrated, however, at everything: putting rough socks on my dry feet in the morning, stepping out of steamy showers onto the bitter cold tile floor of the bathroom, not being listened to a car full of people, not being able to sleep, itchy wool sweaters, washing the dishes, tight turtlenecks, not being able to accurately color within the lines…