My earliest memory that I know is a true memory and not a photograph-induced one is of my Aunt “breaking into” the backdoor, which for some reason was in the bedroom I shared with my brother. In my child brain, she was an Adult, and therefore certainly doing something appropriate and grown up. Now I realize that at the time she must have been in her early 20s and was probably sneaking in late after being somewhere naughty. For some reason it had never occurred to me that this door actually went anywhere (certainly I’d been told never to go out it), so it seemed quite magical that one of my favorite relatives could suddenly appear from the other side of it. We moved a lot as a kid, and while that was fairly disruptive in a number of ways, it has made keeping my geographic chronology clear quite easy: the house that this memory resides in was no longer my house when I was 4 1/2, so the memory must be from sometime prior to that.