Playing with stream of consciousness writing, or memories

This is very old, something from several years ago.

My earliest memory: Building a snowman with my sister and brother, my mother standing at the sliding glass door.  I also think I saw Uncle Keith there, but maybe not.  I don’t remember climbing stairs as a babe, but I can imagine what it must have been like.  Seated on my legs, I stair up at the flight of steps, were they covered with carpet, grayish blue maybe?  I put my tiny right hand on the first step, you can see my diaper under my long top, or maybe it’s a dress.  I can’t see myself climbing them beyond that first reach. 

I remember Mary Poppins and Lamb chops and playing with my magnets.  I used to build places and the little dots, the red and blue, were boys and girls.  I remember the boys would always chase the girls, and I always chose one of each to be the main characters.  I’m not sure how I kept them straight but it seems I almost always did.  I think sometimes I would mess them up when mom came by.  Like it was wrong of me to play such a game.  I got embarrassed.  I remember, I think, mine and Carl’s last bath together.  Maybe it was the chicken pox or something.  We had all our toys, well mostly his.  GI Jo and such.  I used to love playing GI Jo and trolls with him.  I always wanted to be like him.  Well, as far as I could.  I always looked up to him.  He was so smart and cool.  Emily had to play my mother, how could I look up to her.  I don’t remember when Dad left I just know he left.  My first memory of a phone conversation with him: I was maybe seven, or maybe it was just after he left.  I didn’t want to use the phone I just wanted to play.  I had just gotten my boots, the boyish kind, Timberlands or something.  I remember how excited I was.  I was trying to tie them maybe when he called and I had to talk to him.  Mom made me even though I said I didn’t feel like it.  It didn’t faze me then.  That my daddy had left.  I just thought how much this conversation had interfered with my playtime.  I remember the car ride with grandma and grandpa.  I fell asleep in grandmas’ lap in the back seat.  It sounds silly but that’s my fondest memory of her.  She was so caring then, she said, “If you’re sleepy just lay down here and go to sleep.” So I did, it was nice.  After that she became the crazy grandma.  My mother told me that she asked a doctor if I had been sexually abused.  I stuck my blanket up my nose; I just thought it felt nice.  Kids stick things up their nose.  I’m not sure it means anything except a strange fixation.  Freud would probably say its normal.  The only thing Freud was good for, he helped us understand child behaviors.  I remember having a crush on Lauren D.’s big brother.  I think he was the second oldest.  He was so cute, I guess.  I was only 8 or 9 so what did I know.  I remember when Lauren wanted to see me naked, or at least be in the room when I changed my clothes.  I thought she was a weirdo then, now I know she was just curious because I was older then her.  She was just curious.  Or maybe she was just kidding around.  I remember the dirt mounds.  We played on them and pretended to be on some kind of adventure.  We were always pretending.  I forget sometimes how imaginative I was.  My sister made me a Barbie extravaganza in our room once.  She took all my Barbie’s and hers and made little sections.  There was a house on our dresser and maybe a beach or something.  I don’t remember all of it, just that it covered our desk and dresser and the floor.  She always takes care of me.  I suppose I somewhat returned the favor with this trip, not sure I ever fully could though.  At some point you know you’re not like other families or that you’re not like other kids.  I thought about things a lot.  Just everyday things.  I seemed like such a quiet kid, people used to tell me.  On the inside it was never quiet.  My mind was always rolling from one subject to another or one idea to the next.  I used to dwell on things a lot.  I guess I still do.