My strongest memories of childhood. Someone asked that question earlier...and after pondering, I came up with theses:

My parents always bought me new kid tool each spring (rake, hoe and shovel.) I thought it was so cool that I could use mine in the garden just like my dad.

My mom used to call me her rare gem. It was a very special pet name. When I smell chanel number 5, I think of my mom.

Around Christmas one year, I pretended to be asleep on the floor when I was about nine. My father picked me up and brought me to bed. My dad must have been in his mid-sixties at that time but didn't say anything about it...he just picked me up and tucked me into bed.

Going to bakeries in new towns...my mom had a sweet tooth and loved real danish (like she used to have up north) so we'd alway go check them out.

Smelling food when I came home from school from my parent(s) cooking.

Playing with my older brother in the yard, making treehouses, making mudpies, and riding our bikes on the trails in neighboring vacant lots.

Getting to go shopping twice a year for schoolclothes and/or shoes (once before school, and once in the spring near Easter.)

Watching my dad get ready for work every morning. He was a painter (he was actually a painter superintendent but I didn't know that as a kid) and always wore white long sleeved shirts and white pants with his company's patch on the front pocket.

The smell of Seaport coffee brewing each morning.

In the evening, I'd help take off my dad's boots (lace-up type with paint marks.) He'd tell me how great it was that I did that (and other things like bring him a glass of ice water) and how, one day, he'd dance at my wedding. Being as I grew up Baptist (who don't believe in dancing,) as I walked alone with my dad up to the building of the church where I was married, I stopped and reminded him of his promise. We stood there, outside on the sidewalk, and danced before going in and walking down the aisle.