31 Day Blog Challenge-My Earliest Childhood Memory

Day 4

Wow! How do I respond to this question? My earliest memory is a house or what today would be called a shack. I remember darkness on the walls, so they were without paint. We played on hardwood floors.

I can remember sitting on the floor trying to color in a coloring book. My sister, Erma, was a year younger than me, and my brother, almost two and a half years behind me. He would be the only boy my mother would have because five girls came along later.

The shack we lived in had two bedrooms that I can remember. The three of us shared a bed. The kitchen was small and seemed crowed with the little table and chairs. Alongside the street, where my father parked his car, was a deep ditch that held water most of the time. My father placed a plank across the ditch to get to his car.

We used to have a picture with me, brother, and sister standing side of the car holding hands in our underwear. I am embarrassed to say, our underwear had holes in them, and I seemed to remember we had some teeth missing from our broad smiles.

Once my mother prepared biscuits to put in the oven and almost dropped as she jumped back from the stove. She placed the pan of biscuits on the table and ran outside to tell my father there was something in the kitchen stove with a long tail.

My dad took a look and declared it was a snake. He used the tool(I don’t remember the name of the equipment) to lift the eyes of the stove and put move wood inside and replaced the eyelet, and made sure the door to the stove was closed securely.

We all followed him back outside to the side of the house where the stove would be and waited. Within a few minutes, the snake came sliding out. My father grabbed the hoe and chopped his head off. He then buried it away from the house.

Dad explained the snake probably crawled in to get out of the cold. My poor mother was still too shuck up to open the oven door again. My dad ended up cooking dinner.

I remember cowboys riding their horse down the streets and my father taking me with him when he went to the bar in the daytime. He would buy me a peanut patty for a nickel and it was larger than my face, umm, it tasted so good. I can still taste that buttery taste on my tongue.

Sometimes, when I think about those days in Texas, I can see it clearly as if it was taking place now. It feels good going memory lane. I hope you enjoyed it too. Until next time, stay safe, and keep the faith.

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