I am light. I am happy. Moving suddenly in bobbing jerks. Held aloft in firm grips. Sunshine warms my face and shoulders. Giggles resonate off the waves of water. Cousins I hardly know pass me from one to the other. Children themselves but much older than me. Taller too. They stand in the water up to their waists. The water the color of the sky behind the dark green bushes. This is our first meeting. I think. I only see flashes of memories like sunshine splayed through treetops. A flash of a pretty smiling face and another and another. Arms and hands reaching for me. Tan and golden from days in the sun. I remember it with a smile. I remember being light and happy. Feeling excited and special. I am the center of attention. I am the baby. My mom says its impossible. I cant possibly remember that. I was two. We went down to Florida to visit family. Perhaps a photo of me sitting in my aunts lap next to the pool jogs my memory. I dont remember that photo being taken. I dont remember anything else. I remember the feeling, the arms, the movement. It is my earliest memory. So many years later. No one could carry me now. Still I smile at the recollection, the memory of the feeling, the lightness, the sunshine, the acceptance.
This was a 15-minute writing practice about my earliest memory. It’s a practice to write without stopping and without judgement.
It was written in response to the weekly writing challenge http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/05/writing-challenge-remember/
Be sure to follow the link to read more responses.
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