Most of us can’t recall the first few years of our life – the babyhood of crying or teething or ruining our parents’ sleep. We can only believe our moms when they tell us that if they didn’t give us enough attention we emptied the flower pot, then played with the dirt on the rug, or how we crawled out of our crib at nighttime and slid under the card table during bridge night, refusing to come out.
My first memory is playing in a sun puddle in my parents’ bedroom with my paper dolls. Satiated after a summer morning at the kiddie pool, I find a spot in a safe room, so happy in the quiet, in my aloneness, feeling the sun sift into my body, loving me, wanting me, helping me feel whole.
Fifty plus years later, I gravitate toward indoor pools of sun like a snake to its rock. I search first for the book I’m reading, and then I sink onto the floor, reunited with my old friend, the sun, and feel her surround me, enter me, revitalize me while also relaxing me. All problems, stress, worries melt away like an ice cube left out on a warm counter, and I become one with the floor, the room, the air, the universe.
The adult is the child, and the child is the adult.
What’s your first moment?