I'm sure that I'm not alone in having a childhood that is only dimly remembered. My very first memories are quite vague and nothing definite until after my sister was born when I was 3 1/2. So it is fascinating to have a child of my own now and be experiencing the other side of the parent/child equation. With this new experience, it occurs to me that my parents also loved me, doted on me, fed me, played with me and responded as best they could to my every need.
Though I have no memory of it, as I carry my 4 month old daughter around the house, I begin to sense at some preconscious level, that my mother carried me in much the same way. Sang to me, babbled nonsense to me and treated me as parents tend to treat their beloved offspring. With this recognition, other feelings arise, and I wonder if this is not yet another unremarked aspect of parenthood – this rediscovery of one's childhood from a vastly different perspective.
