Memories

When I was in first or second grade I smashed my thumb in a car door. I had gotten a ride with my neighbour Lena to school in their Volvo (I think) and when I closed the door the first time it didn't work so I had to close it again. We walked away to where the other kids were and after a few minutes I realized that my thumb was hurting really badly. When someone asked me (suppose it was one of the teachers) what had happened I did not know. It was not until some time later that I realized that the pain in my thumb was connected with the uncooperative car door. Lena asked me that evening why I had not said anything when it happened and I could not tell.

I grew up in Lesjöfors in Värmland. In a yellow house. With a mother, a father, a sister (three years older) and one or two dogs (it is not that I do not know how many dogs we had, my memory is not that bad, it is just that the number varied with time). I will in a series of blog entries try to remember things from that time, to give you the reader, and more importantly, me the writer, glimpses of my past. A past that is hidden in a fog inside my brain.