“What does that one look like, georgie?” My dada and I looked through the branches of the big tree that towered over our little basement apartment. Big fluffy clouds hung in the sky forming shapes to awaken even the dullest imagination. I smiled at this new game. We laid on our backs next to each other and my dada pointed out frogs, elephants, and donuts hidden in the cumulous blanket.
The memory is more like a shadow that quivers in and out of focus. I can’t quite grasp it from the archives of my mind. I don’t think I could even talk yet, but I remember lying there and my eyes didn’t hurt even though we were looking strait up into the sky. Soft white seed balls fell from the tree and piled up around us like warm snow.
“Dada” was my first word.
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