Childhood memories are funny things. For some people they are clear, crystalised moments, which they come back to; others have blocked most of them out while they try to sift through the trauma. There is no definite pattern for how we remember things or why we remember them either, but they are part of us, a thing we carry through the rest of our lives. Sometimes the weight is painful, sometimes it is comforting like a weighed blanket holding firm through the dark night.