The first thing I remembered from my childhood was my grandma sitting in front of a large black coal stove, plucking a dead goose.
Apparently the last coal stove in our family was dismounted years before I was born. Same with plucking birds. I have no idea whose memory this is.
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Replying to @danieljthomason and @QiaochuYuan
You know what’s even better? I found out this weekend that there’s no chance the first and most vivid thing I remembered from my childhood actually ever happened. It could have been my mom’s memory, but certainly not mine. I don’t know what to trust anymore.
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