Childhood?

I often hear stories told by friends of childhood experiences, followed up by laughter. They so vividly remember so many things. I often find myself listening so attentively, infused within their stories, trying to see if maybe then I will trigger a memory within me. It never does.
     Why don't I remember? I sit here writing this thinking back, thinking hard.. and nothing. Its blank not completely but not how it should be. I often hear my aunts or mom tell stories of me and my brother , of the things we did and they laugh and ask do you remember ?..The answer is always no. They find it weird too, but they all brush it off. I have one vivid memory, just one. Me holding my grandmas hand and walking down the street, that's it. How is that possible? Up to the age of eight maybe ten everything is blank. As if that's the day I started living and creating memories, but trust me when I say I wish those memories would be erased. The irony. By the grace of the universe some of those have been hidden deep within me. Which just makes me wonder , if the previous years are hidden for a reason?

I am the oldest of five kids. Ever since I could remember I have had responsibility that a child should not. My mom has been such a hard worker , she relied on me and I accepted that early on. I took on what I could, to help her . I saw her struggle and I wasn't going to add to that I was going to do my best to relieve some of that stress. She often worked long hours and multiple jobs. I would see her briefly as I got home from school dinner would be ready for us, she would ask us how school was, tell me to please make sure my brother and sister ate and to clean the house. I complied. I feed my siblings as she rushed out of the house to her job. Where was dad you ask? Oh well you see he was sleeping, not because he worked too, no you see alcohol had him. Most of the time I saw him he was either sleeping in the couch because he was drunk, he was drinking, or he was leaving with his friends. I would wake up early get my brother ready for school to let my mom sleep for a bit, she had to get some rest for her job. But brother never made it easy, I would have to drag him out of bed, drag him to school. Such a challenge with him. He had it rough to then. He suffered from seizures , had to take tons of pills which he hated. He often wouldn't take them and he would get sick. I never understood that, why avoid the medicine that;s keeping you from having a seizure. Stress was one of his triggers, and we came from stress. Life in our household was not peaceful.
    I would always check up on him at school making sure he took his pills. One day I remember this so vividly. A teacher came into my classroom and grabbed me come here she said. I rushed out, whats going on? Your'e brother doesn't feel good, he is asking for you. I walked into the classroom and I saw his eyes, those green eyes were empty I knew he was about to have a seizure. I ran and held him, I turned his head and he vomited and told him it was OK. In that moment it was me and him. He The nurses came in and waited as it passed. He was starting to come back slowly and I looked up the kids in his class were horrified. They didn't know how to react , but this was normal for us. This was life. I went back to class to be called again, they couldn't find my brother he was gone. My heart sank, I ran through the school, through the playground. He wasn't there. I wast allowed to leave. I was in such panic, thinking my mom doesn't need this, how could I loose my brother ? I was so mad at myself.  I got home that day to find him sitting at home laughing with a friend. Mom had scolded him , the police officer had to. I said why would you do that? his response I was embarrassed everyone saw. No one knew until today.