My First Memory- Personal Narrative I’ve had many memories during my lifetime, many good, and some bad. My
very first memory takes me back to my very first house, a substantial
s0mie- detached house situated in the heart of Hartford.
I was probably about six years old and so was my sixth Christmas. I
have a vivid memory of waking up very early in the morning, staggering
into my parents’ bedroom and literally dragging them out of their bed.
I then progressed onto forcing them to follow me down the stairs, and
as I reached the bottom, I just stood there, gazing at the extravagant
tree, mesmerised by its beauty.
As I stood there, gazing at the excessive tree, it suddenly struck me,
it was Christmas! What was I staring at a tree for? I had presents to
unwrap! I ran over to the tree and began to tear open the presents,
engulfed by the many different colours of attractive wrapping paper.
When I had finally finished demolishing the paper off the presents, I
had a huge pile of toys, lego, power rangers, action men, you name it,
and it was under that tree. Just before I headed into the kitchen to
help myself to a drink, I noticed a huge figure lurking behind the
curtain of the dining room.
I ran over to it and threw back the curtains – a bike! A real life
bike! All for me!
Completely oblivious to the fact that I was only wearing my pyjamas, I
hauled the bike outside and suddenly realised it was snowing! I began
to ride the bike up and down the road, leaving tracks in the snow
everywhere I went, just like a snail leaving behind slime. As I raced
round the corner, I noticed the minute milometer perched on the handle
For the best part of ten minutes I practised trying to break my speed
record but when I approached a tight corner, I had to slam on my
breaks, Unfortunately when I did this, I managed to ride over a frozen
over puddle and lost my grip of the handle bars. I went flying off the
bike into a near by neighbour’s bush and the bike collided with an
With a sudden feeling of anxiety, I raced over to the bike only to
realise that it was still intact. I was so grateful! I got back onto
the bike and was about to head back to my house when my heart suddenly
plummeted. The milometer was smashed, completely ruined, beyond
repair, I was heartbroken.
Like I said earlier, the memories of my childhood aren’t all tales of
heartbreak. For example one very fond memory of mine takes me back to
my eighth birthday where I was beginning to get more mature and so
needed a ‘big boys’ present.
It was the night of March 25th, and I couldn’t control my excitement
as I settled down into my immense double bed and prepared to watch