Write about an early memory as an observer.
It is a dark and stormy winter’s night, sometime ago in this small town the power went out and now sitting in front of a warm and lit fireplace a young family gathers to tell stories. The scent of burning wood drifts on the warm air, the fire pops and crackles while light flickers around them.
On a fluffy white rug beside the hearth is a father sitting cross-legged with his son and daughter facing him. The brother and sister lay on their stomachs feet in the air and chins propped in hand enthralled by the deep timbre of their father’s voice. Their mother is sitting nearby watching as they listen.
He is telling a story of his own creation called The Flying Squirrel. It is about a family of squirrels, a family of 4 just like the one gathered around the fire with a mother, father, brother and sister.
There is Mama Squirrel, Papa Squirrel and their children Renny and Penny. Besides being a family of talking squirrels they seem to be quite a normal squirrel family who spend the year searching for food and supplies to survive the cold winter months.
The story is about Renny and Penny squirrel who are often left on their own to play while Mama and Papa search for winter supplies. Mama and Papa tell their children to stay inside the treetop nest but being on their own Renny and Penny eventually leave the nest in search of something fun.
They make an amazing discovery when Renny falls from a high branch to what he and Penny are certain will be his untimely death. Instead they discover that Renny is a flying squirrel and can soar from treetop to treetop safely.
They eventually confess to Mama and Papa squirrel that they have left the nest and about this amazing gift. In the end as in all good children’s stories everything works out and their squirrel lives are even better after discovering Renny can fly.
When the last story of the night is told the children sleepily make their way to their warm beds after hugs and kisses to dream of flying squirrels and running along from tree branch to tree branch.
I was not quite 3 years old when this happened. It is a moment that I can close my eyes and instantly be transported back in time to and can picture with perfect clarity. I remember the warm and secure feeling I had and how everything was so very perfect at that moment.
This is my first really solid memory and one I know is an actual memory and not something I heard about as an older child as it wasn’t until many years later talking about telling stories that I told my Dad about this moment. Until I described it he and my Mom had forgotten all about it.
Out of all the stories my Dad made up The Flying Squirrel was by far my favorite and I now tell the story to my own children who adore it as much as I once did. It is thanks in large part to my Dad and this memory that I find such joy in making up stories and writing.
