First Memory

Hello World,
Mark Welsh here.
My first memory..... I am 3. I am walking down a street. The last street of a new development in a 1950's track housing project. I am only two street in from the main road in a small 200 year old town in south jersey. Gibbsboro, a vanishing rural area that is quietly famous for two things. One is , it is home to a very old paint manufacturing factory that is directly across the street from the only bar and gas station in town. that it is populated daily by the towns workers and my father, a bricklayer who is slowly going insane from PTSS brought on by horrific war experiences. The other thing the town is famous for, will not happen for about 30 years, becoming one of the most notorious Superfund sights of toxic waste hell that a posh development will be built upon.
For now, I am 3 and walking down a very wind swept street with bigger kids and older siblings. It is a warm balmy day, I am guessing spring. The dust and dirt in the air is so thick and beautiful I am mesmerized by what feel mysterious and overpoweringly atmospheric. Everything feels and look otherworldly, and I feel that way, yet I have no idea why I should feel so. I am only three. The dust and dirt are blowing in from the extensive construction area that the rest of the houses are being built upon. Everything is obscured and hidden. I love the whole feel of the moment. I am walking along.... and I realize something ....profoundly....I am remembering things. I actually realize I am remembering things, and I am aware of myself doing so. How strange is this place. .. I am 3.
MW