Firsts on Friday is my little game to get your creative juice’s flowing. I give you a first and I want you to write a story from it. Today’s first is, what is your first memory.

It was quiet except for the sobs coming from my parents bathroom. I knew I was supposed to stay in bed, but I was curious. I slipped off my bunk bed and crept toward my bedroom door feeling the multi green shag carpet under my feet, my nightgown still wrapped around me. I slowly opened my door and noticed my parents door shut but could still hear my mom crying. My four year old heart was saddened to hear my mom but I know she cried like this most of the time. I heard muffled voices in the kitchen and decided to make my way down our hall. My room was at the end of the hall with my parents room to the right of me and my older sister to the left. I didn’t want either of them to hear me so I opted to walk closest to my mom’s bedroom door the floor didn’t squeak as loud on that side of the hall. The dim kitchen light was a beacon and a deterrent. I wanted to see who was in the kitchen and at the same time I was afraid. My older brother came out of the kitchen just as I reached the bathroom door. He didn’t notice me as he hurriedly ran down the stairs. The voices stopped but I could still hear movement and so my curiosity kept me moving. I walked into the kitchen, not seeing anyone there. I walked past the desk that was against the south wall and came into view of our dinning area. The cold linoleum under my feet I turned toward my dad who was sitting in one of our chairs at the table. He had his guitar and was placing it in his case. A bag sat next to him on the floor and his boots were on his feet. His cowboy hat sat on top of our table and that is when I realized my dad was leaving. I walked over towards him, my right hand playing with my lips as I always did when I was scared or nervous. My dad looked really mad, but his face softened a bit as I moved towards him.
“Where are you going dad?”
“Your mom has asked me to not live here anymore so I am going to go and stay with Stevie.”
With that my dad stood up with his guitar case in hand and bag in the other. He grabbed his hat off the table and walked past me. He stopped and turned back around to face me then he kneeled down next to me. He reached out his arms and embraced me. A quick kiss on the forehead and he was back on his feet and out the kitchen door.
“Don’t leave daddy!” I yelled as I chased him out of the kitchen.
He was already down the stairs with the door open. He shut the door without another word and I began to cry. My brother was next to me in a flash, I don’t even know how he got there so fast. He was always there to protect me and comfort me. He picked me up and held me as he walked me back to my room. I sobbed in his arms, but knew that my brother loved me and that comforted me.

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