Jake was sitting around one day, and wondered what his earliest memories were.
The first one was him lying on the grass outside the fence that surrounded the two-story, rectangular kindergarten that was on a military base.
His dad was a Navy Chief that worked near the school, and had come down during his lunch break to visit him. It was the kindergarten lunchtime, too. He remembered his dad taking a blade of grass, and saying, “Now close your eyes, and let me know when you feel it touch your face.”
Jake also remembered hearing, years later, that his parents were called to the kindergarten on base. Jake had gone in at recess and asked his teacher for some paper, and she asked him what for. Jake said his fire wouldn't burn. Evidently, he was working on his fire-making skills in the stairwell.
The school called his parents in and suggested he be put in a school for exceptional children.
He was taken out, and put in a local, civilian kindergarten, and he eventually graduated, and received his diploma at an outdoor ceremony.
The only other thing he was told about that day was, as the ceremony was starting, one or some of the kids were talking, and Jake looked over and whispered, “Shut up, he's praying.”
It could have been a she, because a lady ran the kindergarten. Years later, Jake saw pictures of the ceremony, of him outdoors, in cap and gown, holding his diploma.…
The earliest memory of his mom was around the same time...