This narrative is incredible. Makes a lot of sense, too. Thanks for sharing it.
Are you ready for one of the wildest experiences of my life?
My parents grew up on Long Island. After they married, they bought their first house in my mother’s hometown. They lived there for several years and had my three older brothers. Just before I was born, they moved to a bigger house in a neighboring town.
I was about 5 years old and it was snowing heavily. The whole family was inside, looking over picture albums in the livingroom.
My middle brother turned to my father and asked if we could go sleigh riding when the snow stopped.
I piped in and said, “Let’s go back to the park near the old house.”
“Which park?” my mother replied.
“The one where we crashed into the tree,” I stated.
“What do you mean?” my mother asked.
“You know, the park. R was in front, J was in the middle, and I was in the back. We went down a big hill and hit a tree with the sled.”
“Sweetie, you can’t possibly remember that,” mom insisted.
“Yes, I do. J had on a blue coat and red hat.”
“You can’t remember that because you weren’t born yet. I was pregnant with you when it happened.”
Determined, I announced, “Take me to the park. I can show you the tree!”
The next day, Mom and I went to a park that, according to my family, I had never been to in my life. I showed her the tree.
The reason my memory was from the back of the sled is because that was her vantage point when it happened. Mom was upset, worried that the boys were hurt.
She passed that image on to me in the womb. I was born two months later.
We stayed connected like that my whole life. I knew within moments that she died, even though she was still in NY and I was in Texas. My sister felt the exact same thing; we both knew when she was gone.