Why you should write about your childhood memories
There’s a certain kind of magic in our childhood memories. They tend to make great stories. Even the little ones, the ones that are tiny and fleeting, yet somehow stand the test of time.
For me, there’s one in particular that’s been playing in my mind on repeat.
Springtime -- a warm Easter weekend. I was about 10 years old. My sister and I received shoes as an Easter gift. Mine were pink, with a tie dye look about them.
What was really special and delightful about these shoes was that you could slip them off very easily.
In fact, we discovered, with one good flick of the ankle you could pop them right off and send them sailing. Combine this realization with a swingset and you’ve got some childlike joy right there.
And so this is the memory — just a flash, brief but persistent:
Swinging on the swing in our backyard, gaining momentum as I swept backwards, up into the air, and then as I wooshed forward, flicking off my shoes and sending them sailing into the garden.
Swing. Woosh. Flick. Repeat.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
I’ve been using this memory as a kind of visualization, almost meditation, as it evokes a powerful sense of freedom and sensation of letting go.
Often in my life I’ve felt the impulse to hold tightly to things, to control, worry, or try to push things into place. This moment was the reverse of that. True letting go.
What do you remember?
Memories can be like totems: artifacts or touchstones that remind us who we are, or where we’ve been, or what’s possible for us to feel.
These little moments aren’t big stories, but don’t underestimate their power — to connect, to reveal, to pull a bigger story into focus.
I think of these as “little-big” things. Tiny moments with a deeper or lasting significance.
What’s a little-big memory you can recall?
What happened? How did it feel? What does it mean to you today?
Write down the details, no matter how small. Try telling THAT story. See what it reveals to you.
You might just recapture a little piece of the magic.