Of all the things I can remember in my life, there’s only one my brain does not have the capacity to forget. Many people will say their never-to be forgotten memories are of family members or loved ones, or others may say winning an award or finally doing something they have been trying to do for a long time. Some may even say death of a family member or sad moments in their life. Mine is my earliest memory, it is simple and sweet.

Christmas day 1998, I had just turned 4 years old. There was only one thing I wanted. A rocking chair, to help put all my plastic dolls asleep. This is the only year I got what a wanted. When I ripped the paper from the box and saw the picture of a chair perfectly proportionate to my size, I felt my eye sockets grow 3 times bigger. When the box was finally open, I remember being so, terribly upset because it was already broken. My dad scrambled to put it together in order to stop my tears, but I was already sitting in it before he finished. The first time my butt cheeks made contact with the shiny with plastic seat, my dolls didn’t matter anymore.

I instantaneously fell in love with the adrenaline of backwards fall. The way my hair brushed beside my face as it whisked you away from the floor. I wanted to eat Christmas dinner in the pink and white, piece of heaven. Even if it meant I had to eat all alone, away from the rest of my family.

My mom had gotten furious with how much fun I was having all on my one. She wanted me to be included in the rest of Christmas festivities. Her anger kept building and eventually she took it away from me. Somehow she thought she could keep it away from me by setting my rocking chair atop a glass table in a spare room. Little did she know, heights do not stop adrenaline junkies.

Looking back on the situation, she was setting herself up for disaster. She knew I was the kid who climbed on top of the refrigerator, just to see what was up there. What was different with a table? As soon as she turned her head, I climbed up the chair. This was the hardest part of the journey as the seat of a normal person chair was at my head. Up on the table I was, again reunited with my rocking chair. As if nothing was different from rocking on the floor. The glass of the table was squealing under my 30 pound body. My mother realized her mistake just as the table let out it’s last screech.

I am still in love with the adrenaline my 4 year old self discovered. Although I don’t have the rocking chair anymore, I look for adrenaline in other ways. After that Christmas my mom introduced me to gymnastics hoping I would then stay off of tables, chairs, refrigerator, or anything else that is high than my own head. I still love and compete gymnastics, and it’s nice knowing my first memory is where it all started. I know that where ever I go in life or whoever I turn out to be, I will always love the rush of falling backwards.