1. First Memory


“Nyla,” a woman softly coos. “How’s my sweet baby girl?” I reach out my stubbly little fingers to surround one of hers. I babble as she smiles at me.

“Aren’t you a happy baby,” a man says, standing next to her. He smiles at me too. I reach for him as well, and the woman picks me up. I bury my face in her messy, brown curls. I like the way they tickle my nose.

The man pokes my tummy, causing me to giggle gleefully. They both match my squeals of joy, which makes me laugh more. Much of anything outside of my reach is a mystery to me, but what I know was more than enough to keep me happy.

I don’t know this man and woman are my parents. I don’t know they just had a fight. I don’t know they are getting a divorce. I don’t know this is the earliest and last happy memory I have of my parents…and it is all a lie.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s