First

My first memory is sleeping in the back of our family’s minivan as we drove through downtown. I opened my eyes, turned my head, and looked up and out at a skyscraper alone in the blue sky with the brilliant sun. It was bright. I let my head flop back down and I slept again. I was probably 3 or so—not terribly young. I remember at the time it was not my first memory, but I’ve forgotten everything before that moment, so now this is my first memory. Honestly, I can’t remember this one all that well, but one time I did and wrote it down so I can recall the memory; but in truth I want this memory to be my first, because I don’t want to know how many years of my life I’ve missed if I can’t remember back to when I was five, six, seven, eight, nine…

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