On the radio this morning the announcers were asking for our earliest memory. I got to thinking about when I was three or four years old and went to Joanne’s house with my brother.  He was all of five or six and was going to play with Joanne’s brother,  so I tagged along. 

When he was ready to go, I opted to stay behind and play with Joanne. 

Keep in mind, if I’m four at this point, it is just barely.  I may have still been three.

When it was time for me to go, Joanne’s mom asked if I know my way home and of course I said yes.

I may have mentioned that I was incredibly young, but you should know that I was also new to the area and that it was at least a ten block walk from their door to mine.

Ten blocks means nothing, however, when you go the wrong direction right from the get-go.

So, no.  NO!  I’m three and 10 blocks from home.  NO I DON’T KNOW MY WAY HOME!

To this day, it amazes me that anyone could look at a preschooler and think that they are okay to venture out in the world all alone.  

I remember wandering, crying, down busy 50^th street, having no idea where I was. 

I remember a car pulling over and a nice lady asking if I was lost. 

I remember sitting on her lap in the front seat while they drove away.

And they took me to Woolco.

Woolco. 

Yes. Woolco.

While this wonderful family was bringing me to the local department store, (my American friends could compare this to a Walmart) my mom, dad and two brothers are riding bikes around the neighbourhood looking for me.  My mom is yelling at my brother, who at five years old, was to be responsible for me.  They decided ‘that’s it!  We’re checking Woolco and then we’re going to the police station!’

Yep.  Woolco.  I’m not kidding.

They walked in and there I was, sitting at customer service, eating licorice.