Earliest Memory

Between the ages of six and nine, after I discovered the Harry Potter books, I came to love the scar on my forehead, as it was close enough to a lightning bolt to proclaim that Harry and I were a lot a like. However, unlike Harry, my scar was not the product of a piece of dark magic. It in fact was rather mundane.

My family told me that I rolled off the bed at the Pagoda hotel and the edge sliced my head open like a katana cutting a watermelon. They rushed me to the hospital, disobeying speed limits and traffic signals. The doctors carried me in on a stretcher.They tried to reason with me, but I would have none of that. After realizing I was entirely irrational they decided to tie me down. Arms pinned me to the surfboard, while hands grabbed at the gnashing teeth of the Velcro. The scratchy material of the straps strangled me, as the doctors yelled, under the bright lights.  being tied down by the doctors to a surfboard, as I tried to break free from the grasp of modern medicine.I thrashed as they attempted to hold me.

I was told years later that I had screamed obscenities at the doctors. Told them to "fuck off" my family has often wondered where I learned these words, after all they all swear that they never said them near me. Noam Chomsky argues that we are hardwired for grammar that it is impossible for us to intuit the oddities of syntax. Perhaps, cursing is one of his oddities. One of those things we know before knowing, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash a deluge of obscenities.

I know that this memory happened, in so far as I can see that knot of scar tissue on my right brow. But there have been things I have always questioned. First of all, how does a three year old come to yell fuck off? My mother always said that I yelled things, but when I asked her years later to be more specific, she swore that I had yelled those exact words. The fact that I remember being tied down lends some credence to their claims. However, I could have just as easily received such treatment and such a scar from other things.

Things like an alien abduction, while I do not believe in Aliens, for the sake of argument suppose they exist Suppose they abducted me and tied me down and cut open my skull and proceeded to fiddle with the lobes of my brain. This is just as likely as a purported hotel room mishap. I can see neither the aliens or the hotel room.

What if? They dropped me at some point in time and then over the years kept repeating the same story until it planted itself into my brain. What if? They were Satanists and the ropes and scar and lights were part of some Satanic ritual. Then, my scar would be the product of dark magic, which would mean that Harry and I were two peas in an evil witchcraft pod. And if it was a satanic ritual, then, isn't it entirely possible that they could have asked Him to implant a memory in my head?

I have no evidence that my family had anything to do with Satanism, other than the fact that my mother started passing Harry Potter novels to me at the age of six, which everyone knows is a gateway drug to Satanism (according to the Onion, America's most credible news source). Then again, I'm sure that a good family of Satanists would not be easily discovered, waiting and hiding and waiting some more. Telling me, how concerned they were about the blood released from the head wound, laughing about the doctors reactions to my words, implanting this memory into my mind. They are clever. But I know the truth.