My first memory

People usually seem to recall their first memory. Scientifically, you can only really remember events that occured after 3 years of age. Because thats when the power of speech and the ability to use words to think and decribe scenes, even to oneself, develop. But i've studied that memories can also be created or distorted with time, elaborated or even garnished. Like you could see a photograhe of you with someone when you were little and create a context or story around it all by yourself. Or someone could tell u what were doing or what you did in that picture at that time and with time, you could internalize their version of what happened as your own memory (which isn't your true memory.)

I don't know if this specific memory of mine is my own true memory or it got created over time. But I think its a real memory because it don't have a detailed account or even an account of it at all. It's just a scene that I have in mind. A scene I have seen a few times in my dreams too. And a scene that I also often see consciously or unconsciously while i'm awake. A brief flash that crosses my mind at times. All I see in it is a picture. It's my mom and me. But I mostly see my mom. And it's so fitting- my first memory has to be one of my mom. The person whom my life revolves around; that all my prayers revolve around Allah keeping her safe and in good spirits.

It's my first day of kindergarten I gather. I see a part of my school's ground. In the background I see the stone carved crib. Uneven stone steps lead to the huge statue of Mary holding baby Jesus. The ground is partially and disproportionately covered in freshly fallen yellow flowers from over hanging trees. And there stands my mom smiling at me encouragingly. I don't see myself very well. All I see is the younger version of my mom. Beautiful, wheatish complexion, almost fair. Her bright beautiful smile, full of youth and happiness. She's wearing a red shalwar and off white kameez with a red dupatta. The kameez has light rich looking embroidery on it. Her dupatta rests on her shoulder. The picture of the most amazing woman. She smiles at me prompting me to go towards my class. She's standing at a distance facing me cuz she's not allowed to come any further.

And as me is me, I stand there stubbornly, reluctant to even move towards the direction of my class. I am not able to tear myself away from my mom. And now, almost 2 decades later, still am not able to do so.