I was like 3. We were moving into a new home, my brother and I are sitting on the front steps and the driveway is just gravel and rebar, no concrete yet.

Nothing special about it, just a memory of sitting there with my older brother on a warm day. I’d bet we went to the park afterwards but can’t recall.

I have vague memory of the house before that. The curtains in my room for some reason. Nothing particular, just them moving in the wind. .

The brain is weird.

I remember walking around in the backyard during a party my parents were having. I couldn’t have been more than 3, since I had no siblings yet. It’s a super vague, and weird memory of basically nothing but one that has stuck with me since as long as I can remember.

Earliest one I can actually put a date on is my first day of kindergarten. I remember the other kids doing some sort of crafting project outside. Other memories may or may not be earlier, hard to tell.

Earliest I can date is reading a newspaper about a significant event when I was not quite 4. I remember having to ask my mother for help with some of the words. I think I have earlier memories than that - like my mother teaching me to read, but I can’t tie them to a specific time.

I remember my mom sitting at the piano, feeling awe, and telling her she must be a zillion years old

It might be a false memory because how tf would I know the word “zillion” at that age

I can recall being in the cot under the window in my parents room, but there is nothing else attached to that memory.

I can also very clearly recall being put onto the floor in the back of my dad’s dark blue side opening van, which had an orange tinted skylight, and crawling across the corrugated floor panel to pull myself up against the wheel arch - since this was evidently before i could walk - whilst my parents were talking just outside, and the van itself was parked across the road from the entrance to our garden.

However, apparently my dad never owned a van of that type, nor anything like it, and nor did anyone that either of my parents or my - significantly older - siblings are aware of. So despite the clarity and detail of that memory, I have doubts that it is at all real.

1992; I’m two years old, and having an absolute blast running through the sheets my mom had put up out on the clothesline.

About a decade ago my mom and I were talking about early memories. It turns out she happened to have a disposable camera on her at the time, and there’s pictures of me, joyfully forming my earliest memory as a toddler.

I have a few memories that could be it, but they have no timestamps. I don’t know how early they are. Could be me sitting on potty in living room in the doorway, looking at TV where my dad was reading something on Telext of channel 1 (recognizable by the orange bar on top).

Around two years old, my mom fell and went into really early labor with my baby brother. Ambulance taking her away, lots of scared adults, I don’t have any other memories for a good two years after that one.

I remember being in the bathroom with my aunt when I was a little shy of turning 4.

She had been staying with us to help my mom with the kids, but had to leave the country as her temporary visa was expiring. I had grown quite attached to her, and the morning she left, she took pity on me and let me follow her around everywhere. Even into the bathroom. I also remember being at the airport and watching her plane take off. But my mom said it took weeks for me to accept that she was really gone and I kept looking for her around the apartment. I don’t remember that part.

Today, she lives a few hours away from me at nursing home. I plan to visit her around the new year.

My first conscious memory is of me gaining consciousness at age 3 or so. Everything before that are visual or tactile memories that are difficult to describe.

Anyway, when I had children myself, I suddenly remembered a lot more of those. Things that I never knew that I remembered somehow got recalled by watching my own child do the same things. So at age 40 I vividly and weirdly remembered what it’s like to be standing in a crib, holding and twisting the bannisters.

Tactile memories are weird. I’ve always enjoyed coming to my grandparents house later in life, because of the way the handles on the cupboards feel just the way they’re supposed to.

I’m not sure how old I am, maybe three or four. It’s the only memory I have from the first place my parents lived in. I’m outside the garage and I’ve got a hammer.

My mother is smashing computer components and I’m “helping”. I remember being so fascinated with what they were and how they worked. I was particularly enthralled by what I now recognize were the internals of a hard drive. The platter is just so shiny! This memory sparks a long term interest in computers.

Later I’d learn my father had been caught consuming particularly violent BDSM pornography.

I was 2.5 years old.

Can recall with precise detail where I was, with who, on which situation and even what clothing everyone, including me, was wearing.

An added note:

Memory development is tied with the development of language capabilities. This means the earlier one becomes capable of speech, the earlier conscious memories start to set.

My older sister shouting at me for getting a math problem wrong. I think i was 3 or 4?