The soft yellow walls of the room emit a warm glow. I am standing next to Mom and Grandma. I must be 15 or 16 months old because there is my brother, Jimmy, all bundled up in a crib & my eyes are about knee-level to Mom and Grandma. I don’t understand what it is they are saying as they stand over the crib, but what I do know is that they are chatting about him. I feel very very happy. So happy that he is there. And also very curious about him.
Sometime thereafter, probably months later, I remember being in “play pen” with its white mesh fabric walls & plastic covered floor padding. I was tickled to be hanging out while mom was in the joining room within watching distance in the kitchen.
I am fascinated by the idea of memory. What we hold onto in our minds and also in our bodies. That is another topic for another day.
Side note about Jimmy. He could have a conversation with you drawing entirely from song lyrics. We listened to multiple genres while we were getting ready for school, Beastie Boys, Violent Femmes, The Beatles, and the Lemonhead’s. I’ve chosen Frank Mills, from their It’s a Shame about Ray album for today’s musical accompaniment.
- Note: This is post 8 of a 30-day WriteStreak challenge.