'I remember ...'

I’m always looking for new writing ideas and prompts and recently came across an interesting one whilst browsing online. The exercise is simple and involves participants spending a few minutes writing out a series of thoughts, of memories, beginning each with; ‘I remember…’

I decided to include this task as part of a creative writing workshop I ran a couple of weeks ago and in preparation for the session I thought I’d have a go myself. Here are my three examples, each with a little explanatory detail:

I remember when I thought all cats were female and all dogs were male. I don’t remember were this idea came from, I don’t remember when I learnt the truth. I do know though that I’m not the only one who once believed this to be sensible as I recently heard a comedian on a game show admit that he had thought the same as a young child.

I remember when my dad threw my sweets in the fire. I think I was about five years old at the time, but maybe younger. It was a Friday; payday at the factory where my dad worked. His first purchases from his pay-packet were always a small gift for my mum and a paper bag full of sweets for me. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor by the fire. It must have been a chilly day. I don’t remember what colourful gems were in the slightly crumpled, bulging, white paper bag. I do remember that I was feeling grumpy but I don’t know why. So when dad told me what this week’s treat was, I replied; ‘I don’t like them’. ‘OK’, he said, calmly, throwing my bag of sticky, sugary goodness into the fire. He didn’t tell me off, wasn’t cross, and proceeded to ask me about my dad and give me a cuddle. I never moaned about my sweet Friday gift again.

I remember the last time my mum washed my face. After a hard, very long, week at work I arrived at my mum’s house tired and more than a bit fed up. I was staying the weekend and we had some plans with friends for the Saturday but all I wanted to do that evening was watch telly in my pyjamas. The bath was helping my mood a little, as was sharing some of my woes with my ever patient, loving mother, who was sitting on the side rim of the bath. ‘Let me wash your back’, she said and I leaned forward whilst continuing to talk about some of the trials of the week. Her touch was soothing and I sighed as I began to feel much, much better. And then… I laughed out loud when she decided that my back was clean enough and proceeded to use the flannel she was holding to wash my face too. I was 51 years old.

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Why don’t you have a go, I’ll start you off:

‘I remember…’