Apple Pie

Describe one of your earliest childhood memories.

I know I’ve mentioned this before but I don’t know if I actually described it or wrote it out. I’m not the writer here so I’m relying on AJ’s skills here but it’s my memory – I promise.

My earliest childhood memory was when I was probably three or four. We lived in a small wooden cabin in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. It was around the holiday season there was snow everywhere on the ground – my mother couldn’t work because she couldn’t leave the house. The roads were so snow covered a state of emergency was issued – not that I knew what that meant then. But I knew my mother wouldn’t have been home otherwise.

Our house had the familiar scent of a crackling fire and freshly baked pies. Round one was completed and my mother was starting the second one. I can still smell the cinnamon and vanilla wafting through the house on top of the smell of hot baked apples. I remember the smell more than I remember the scene. My mother loved to bake. It was something she did with her mother and she tried to pass down the love to me.

I helped – but I just made more of a mess. I was content to sit by the counter in a high backed chair and watch as my mother would do her thing. We didn’t spend many hours together – much less this much time. I basked in the love of my mother. I knew she loved me. I remember knowing that then. That’s what makes everything so much worse now.

She smiled at me. She hugged me. It was a blissful moment. It was my first memory and my only happy one of my time before The Academy that involved my mother. I have a picture of it that my nanny took. I haven’t looked upon it in years, but I know exactly where it is – in my first nightmare journal tapped to the inside cover. The journal is in a trunk in the storage space in the basement of the Apex Unlimited building. The trunk is the only thing in the closet sized storage unit allotted to me after graduating it only contains my old nightmare journals. When one is finished that’s it’s new home. I’ve never looked through them – but Margo has – Dorian too. I can’t make myself look up on the nightmares that plagued me my whole life. It’s a fitting place for the only happy memory because it became such a nightmare in the end.

100 Writing Prompts about yourself