I am a wee little girl, sitting in an enormous crib. I want to stand but it's hard. My legs are chubby and sweet but they are not strong and I am afraid I will fall and bump my head.
There is nothing in here but two cribs, a window, one big round spot, up top, that mama turns on and off, and a sister.
My crib is here, against a cold, bumpy wall and hers is over there, against the other wall.
She is bigger and I am small.
There is no light dancing in my window, instead there are shadows, dark pockets of nothingness.
I hear her rocking, rocking. She stands strong inside her crib, holds on, and rocks and rocks and rocks.
She is on her way over here, to my side of the bumpy wall.
She is halfway here now. She is looking at me. She does not like me.
She wiggles and shakes and pulls at her diaper.
It is off now and I can tell it is full of poop. I don't like poop. It doesn't smell good. I know not to eat things that don't smell good.
She scoops the poop in her hands and whips it at me.
She misses me.
She cries because she misses me.
I don't like to hear her cry. It's loud and it scares me.
Mama comes in and the big round spot, up top, lights up.
I love that spot.
What is your earliest memory?