In keeping with the current thought [ truth is stranger than fiction ], and a friend's recommendation, I'll share a small episode with you.
Now, I'm not completely sure about certain details of the following story. But these are finer details that don't really affect the gist of it. So I'll tell it as I remember being told the story.
When I was about 1-3 years old, on my birthday, my mom was baking a cake in the oven. It was a primitive kind of oven, which was basically a broad cylindrical aluminium vessel, in which you could place the cake, and the whole thing would heat up.
So we were supposed to stay away during the bake.
But suddenly, the lights went out. Although, I guess it wouldn't be that sudden, cuz blackouts were a part of the routine back in those days.
The 1-3 year old child, got scared of the dark, and ran to his mom, with outstretched arms, hoping maybe for a hug.
But as luck would have it, I ran into the hot oven, which burnt the skin on the back of my forearm, and I started to cry.
Dad, came and held me, he held my arm, looking/groping ( in the dark) hoping to find where I'd hurt myself. He couldn't figure much, as I continued crying.
About 2 decades later, and I still have 4 of his fingers from each hand imprinted on each arm. When he puts his fingers there, they fit perfectly.
I don't have any recollection of this memory though. Mom, and Dad, told me about it.
Now, I'm not completely sure about certain details of the following story. But these are finer details that don't really affect the gist of it. So I'll tell it as I remember being told the story.
When I was about 1-3 years old, on my birthday, my mom was baking a cake in the oven. It was a primitive kind of oven, which was basically a broad cylindrical aluminium vessel, in which you could place the cake, and the whole thing would heat up.
So we were supposed to stay away during the bake.
But suddenly, the lights went out. Although, I guess it wouldn't be that sudden, cuz blackouts were a part of the routine back in those days.
The 1-3 year old child, got scared of the dark, and ran to his mom, with outstretched arms, hoping maybe for a hug.
But as luck would have it, I ran into the hot oven, which burnt the skin on the back of my forearm, and I started to cry.
Dad, came and held me, he held my arm, looking/groping ( in the dark) hoping to find where I'd hurt myself. He couldn't figure much, as I continued crying.
About 2 decades later, and I still have 4 of his fingers from each hand imprinted on each arm. When he puts his fingers there, they fit perfectly.
I don't have any recollection of this memory though. Mom, and Dad, told me about it.
Comments
Does that usually happen with burnt skin?
But it was pretty amazin when I found out!
kinda awesome :-D