Good Morning: A Mini-Flashback


Today’s daily prompt says, “What’s your earliest memory involving another person? Recreate the scene — from the other person’s perspective.”

To be honest, I don’t remember much about my childhood except for those big moments. I have tons of pictures stuffed in thick photo albums in the basement newly-constructed storage closet but when I look at it, I cannot remember doing any of those thing as a child.

So for this prompt, instead of writing about my earliest memory involving another person, I will just write about a single memory involving another person in the other person’s point of view, which is my mother. This was something I saw when I woke up one morning, so I’ll just imagine the rest and since my mother does not like to think quietly, I practically know her every thought. Well, not every one of them but most of them.

December 22, 2001, about 7:30 am

I sit in front of the desktop. “Loading…” the screen reads. The screen is green and simple. I got this computer 2 years ago and it feels like it’s getting slower and slower.  

I sigh and look over at her, still sleeping. She must be exhausted from the flight. I know I am but I cannot sleep with the time difference. On the other hand, I need to confirm our route. We need to leave for Texas in few hours. As the page loads, I see my husband, Jim, comes into the room, the camera in his hand. “Shh,” I say but he isn’t listening. 

He puts the camera to his eyes and squints. Snap! I feel the camera flashes behind me. Snap! Snap! He takes more pictures of my daughter sprawling all over the bed. It’s how she sleeps ever since she’s little. I glare at my husband, “You’re going to waste the film.” I hiss. 

“But she’s adorable.” I roll my eyes as the screen finally loads. I type in the addresses as quietly as I can while Jim places the camera on the computer desk. 

“Mommy, what’s going on?” She asks, her eyes squinting at the light. 

“Good morning.” I greet. “How did you sleep?” 

“Hmm,” she responds.

“No time difference?” She shakes her head and closes her eyes again.

I didn’t know my step-dad was taking pictures of me sleeping until my mom and I went to develop the rolls of film after we came back to California. I kept those pictures of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come up with this memory. How do I know it was taken then? There’s date and time stamped at the bottom corner of the picture.

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