My earliest memory was when I was just learning to walk, I was good enough to walk but not without holding somebody's hand. I remember walking in this open field with red sand and small, thorny green bushes scattered everywhere. I was holding my mother hand, i think, and my grandfather was walking in front of us. I remember that everytime I took a step that I would fall on my knee, and there were scratchs and tiny cuts on my knee.
I am still similar in the sense that I am extremely clumsy and that I if find cuts and bruises and not have a clue where I got them. But I think I definitely got better at walking.
This brings up similar memories back to the time when I was first learning to walk. It's funny how we only remember the failed attempts of learning to walk, rather than the initial success of perfecting the walking technique.
