My frist memory takes place on the day I turned three years old. My family got me candy-covered gum, which I was very excitedly enjoying. Then, for a reason unclear outside a three-year-olds mind, I didn't want it anymore: I wanted it back in the package, exactly thesame as it was before I took it. I cried as my father molded it back into the shape it once used to be, but I'd eaten the candy, and the gum was a different texture and color than it was before. It was then I realized that change is irreverseable, and once something happens, you can't always undo it. And so I cried.
My second memory takes place that same year. I learned tying shoelaces by tying strings around chairs, so I was working on it in my dream (in sepia tones, for some reason). I woke up that morning and realized that in my dreams, I don't see from my own eyes, but rather, I see myself doing things from the outside.
My third memory is not too long after the other two. I woke up one morning, crawled out of bed, and walked down my hallway. At the end of the hallway, the bathroom door was open, and my mom stood there in her nightgown, brushing her teeth. At that moment I realized how special morning are, how different they feel from any other time in the day.