Wednesday, April 27, 2011


Describe your memories of a piece of furniture from your childhood home.

I remember a golden upholstered chair with scuffed-up wooden details of unknown origin (for my young mind at least...come to think of it, I've never thought to ask about its past). This chair was the throne for our beloved black Labrador, Stormy. She was the first animal I remember and the ideal dog; calm and sweet and never too bothered by my attempts to ride her like a horse. After Stormy passed away, we got Jerry (granted, I'm skipping a few dogs in between) who was his own man and fantastic in his own right, but Stormy was one-of-a-kind and I will never forget her or her rickety old chair...

First moments

Imagine that you can remember the first moments after you were born, and describe them in present tense ("I feel," "I see," etc.)
My eyes sting like I'm walking on the sun and goosebumps pop up on my arms as I attempt to adjust to the cool delivery room. My eyes begin to adjust to the light and I am bombarded by two large arms which proceed to rub my delicate skin raw with a terrycloth towel. A pat on the back helps me to cough fluid from my lungs and cool air rushes into my lungs. Unaccustomed to breathing on my own, I begin to cry over my exile from my mother's womb. Wallowing in despair, I am a bit surprised to discover the hard table which supported me during my cleaning has been replaced by something a bit softer. Two warm hands gently readjust my fragile frame and I crack open my teary eyelids to look upon two eyes I have never seen before yet know intimately. Mother. I stare, without any concern for propriety, unable to look away from this vessel of love.