My Earliest Memory - A Miracle Story

My earliest memory? 

When I close my eyes and try to put my finger on one, I see a collage of happy and satiating times spent with the angels in my life. How do I choose just one memory for I’m like the storehouse of recollections and dates for my family? What color sweater my sister wore when she was brought home from the hospital after birth. What breakfast we had on the day my mother went to the hospital just in time to catch my sister as the stork dropped her from the baby pouch. How my father panicked every time I had fever. The date when I first danced on stage. How my dad came back home after office every day with a new dress for me when I was a tiny baby. How I danced away to glory with my best friend on the first day of school. Who did what, when and how? I remember all of these and more. And so vividly too, that if I were a painter I could have filled every canvas with those beautiful days, capture them forever. It wouldn't be wrong to say that I’m the external hard disk for my family, whatever they need I have it ready for them whether dates, events or even words spoken.

But there is one memory that stands out. Of-course, it’s not the only one but it’s right there at the top. It is of my father telling me a story as he fed me lunch sitting at the kitchen table. I remember it so clearly, the kitchen and the house we lived in at that time. I was just 4 then.

My dad has built this beautiful memory palace for us with his tales. And the story, one of my earliest memories, goes something like this. Once upon a time a plane was about to crash in the deep blue sea. The passengers in it panicked and cried. They prayed for a miracle. That’s when a thick fog engulfed the entire horizon. The pilot couldn't see anything expect feel the scary decent of the plane. It was all over they thought. But then suddenly a ray of sun pierced through the fog and chased it away. The sparking sea was suddenly visible again and there appeared in the middle a lush green island, at the very spot where the plane was about to crash. The pilot was surprised, for a moment ago there was only water and no land around. Then he saw a clearing, one on which he could try to land, there would be some damage but people could be saved. So he tried and toiled when suddenly he felt the flight glide towards the natural runway, as if aided by an invisible force. To everyone’s surprise and delight, the plane landed safely with just minor jerks. All were saved. Later in the day the passengers were taken home by a ship that had stopped by. And the next day when the pilot took off after some repairs and took a turn towards his destination, he saw the island oddly had the shape of a man lying down and then it suddenly began to disappear. After a while there was nothing except the azure blue around. He was dumb struck. It was a miracle, an answer to prayers, it was the magic of the Almighty. God lied laid down in the ocean to save those people, to save the flight and when they were safely sent home He left. And along with that I ate the last morsel on the plate and my father then put me to sleep.

So this was one of my initial memories. What’s yours?


Linking this post to Writetribe's My Earliest Memory and NaBloPoMo