I have wanted to write a memoir for years now since I was in the seventh grade. I didn't want it to necessarily be in novel form, just snippets here and there. My memory serves me well, but there are still many memories I have lost over the years. So, simple snippets into my childhood seemed appropriate, given the circumstances of my waning memory. To start off this sequence of sneak peeks, here is an extremely condensed version of moving from my childhood home:

It was the only home we ever knew & we had to leave it.

. . .

We were moving a few miles away into a condominium & Charlotte, being Charlotte, was running behind. We had to be out of the house that night. The garage still held too many wicker baskets to count & the house, oh the house. It was a school night, but that couldn’t get in the way of moving. We had to be out of the house that night. So, we moved. We packed and we moved. All. Night. Long.

. . .

I woke up around 7:00am in the front seat of the Durango. We had slept in the car.

I was in fourth grade when this happened, my little sister in second. Our entire childhood was full of rushing around, being late, and always catching up. Something, I'm sure, that led to my anxiety of being late. Perhaps, the only positive thing to come out of this experience: my punctuality.