My first memory was when I was three years old. I was standing on my balcony by myself over looking what was going on underneath me. I looked around and found my father walking with my sister and dog. My sister was two years old at the time and was being pushed around by my father on a toy bike. My dogs name was snoopy, and he was a white Dalmatian. There is nothing significant of this memory, yet for some reason it has stayed close to me since I was extremely young. The reason being is this was the first memory that I could remember while living in Israel, the country where I was born. This memory does not hold any true value because there is no event that makes it special however when ever I think of this time I think of the place in which I was born, the place my parents met and the place I would some day like to go back and visit. Although I only lived there until the age of four, I believe that there are significant ties to a person’s birthplace which are hard to describe.
Here I was, a old wise three year old over looking the kingdom that was under my balcony. As I looked down to see what was going on in my land I came across my younger and less powerful sister, Emily. She may have only been a year younger then me however she was far less independent. My father had been pushing her around on her toy bicycle, what a child. I would never allow such a degrading act to be done to me. I am far too old and sophisticated for such an act. When I came to the realization that my pet hound had been protecting my father and sister my mind was set at ease. My father may have been a strong soldier however I always liked my family to be protected, I knew my trusty hound was the best guard in all of the great land of Israel.