That first time you ever had food poisoning. I was in an airport in Fort Myers, Florida. Damn Sbarro's pizza. Subsequently made me swear off Italian food and food in general for over a week. I remember the first bite of solid food like it was the first time anyone in the human race had ever realized food is good. It was chicken.
Waking up in the middle of some ridiculous humid summer night. Parents refusing to leave the air on while you sleep. Walking to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face and trying to flip your pillow over to get the 'cold side.'
The intense, real, fire burning, passionate love you felt for some teen celebrity back in 4th grade. Leonardo DiCaprio. Yes. I loved you.
Being caught fooling around by your boyfriends parents. It always seems to be in a basement. The embarrassment doesn't hit right away. It always occurs when you're leaving the house during that 48 seconds it takes to put your shoes on by the front door. Why did I wear Converse?
That moment you recognize and embrace the fact that God might not be real.
Being 7 years old and secretly watching your brother have an elaborate external dialogue with Power Rangers. Jason, the red ranger was asking Trini, the yellow ranger to marry him.
Being 7 years old and being mature enough to not use the power ranger story against your younger brother at a later date.
Mom bringing home a new box of popsicles. You knew who your best friend was because when you shared a pack they always wanted the flavor you didn't like. I love(d) orange.
That last time you walked through the halls of your high school. You spent 4 years trying to get out and now all you wanted to do was take one more victory lap...and then another. Usually accompanied by tears. If you're not a crier then you at least had a gut wrenching desire to try.
That odd transition period when your mom stopped buying clothes for you and you went shopping for yourself. Some of the worst clothing choices of all time were made. Nothing matched, it probably didn't fit right, but you were in control.
That night your dad woke you up at 3am because your favorite re-run of Full House was on. You didn't know what made you happier: your dad letting you stay up on a school night or the fact that he knew what your favorite episode was.
That minute, roughly 11:47 a.m. today when you realized you like to write, even if you aren't that talented at it. Even if it sounds: manic, bizarre, dull, frightening, and potentially disappointing the ones you love. My audience, all 4 of you, ultimately I hope to intrigue you.