When I visit my grandmother, we spend hours choosing photo albums and flipping through the pages. She retells me the story behind each photo on every visit.

This is a very sweet tradition. But it’s confusing! I’m not certain which memories are my own because I have snapshots in my head that look suspiciously like the snapshots in grandma’s albums.

There is one photo of me perched on a slanted rooftop while my dad grasps me around the waist. Him in his tight, curly, afro-inducing perm (yes, perm), grinning proudly despite his horrendous outfit. Me, about four years of age with long white hair caught in a perfect bow, a snazzy little skirt/top combo, with a Barbie in one hand and a bottle of Little Kings (beer!) in the other.

I DO remember this night. It was my grandparent’s annual 4th of July party. I remember the cool Kentucky Bluegrass under my feet. It stung my legs when sitting in it cross-legged too long.

I remember the charred particles in my teeth, which could only have been the result of my grandfather’s grilled meats (we have to watch that man or he’ll grill a hot dog until there’s nothing left).

I remember the tang of TANG that my grandmother made me and how it felt sticky around the corners of my mouth.

I remember the excitement of the impending fireworks and the promise that I too would get to crawl through the little peaked window in the attic to sit on the A-framed roof of my grandparent’s home.

On that roof one could see not only the firecracker display below, but also the grand performance the city of Cincinnati launched from the Ohio River.

I remember the thumping sound deep in my chest as the sky lit up with colorful lights in every direction.

I remember my father clutching me and my grandfather constantly plucking at my nose (“I’ve got your nose Jessica, want it back?”). My uncles huddled in a circle below, lighting things and then quickly stepping back before the lumps at their feet erupted into an explosion of sparks.

I remember the heavy smoke stinging my throat and me telling my dad I was thirsty. He handed me the green bottle he had been sipping and told me to take a swig.

Just then my grandmother appeared in the attic window, told us to smile, and a bright flash of light blinded my vision.