Segmented

I've realized something today: when I look back on my life, thinking about various fond (and sometimes not so fond) memories, it doesn't flow. When I reflect on my life, it's segmented.

There are pieces of my childhood for instance, that I don't remember. Granted, kids aren't interested for the most part, in keeping strict mental records of the passing summer days. They are more concerned with cramming as much fun in as possible before the street lights come on and whether the ice cream truck has come yet or not. Nevertheless, most people that I've talked to about their childhoods can give a rough account. Some count by the school years, others by what house they lived in. I really only have four major breaks: (1) before/after I started homeschooling, (2) before/after my family moved to Illinois, (3) before/after I met my wife, and (4) before/after the birth of my daughter.

Since I'm only 26, I suppose it could be worse, but I find it more than a little disconcerting that I can't remember more of my childhood. I am fortunate however, to be able to say that the memories I do have are quite good, and they make for great bases for short stories. (That, by the way, was where I started with one of my book ideas. More on that at a later date.)