My first memories come in and out of focus like black strips on a film reel. I see something, then its gone and its nothing but a notion. I've been sitting here for about five minutes and I guess all I've come up with is bunnies. Two bunnies, black and white, that my parents bought for us for Easter. I named mine flower ( I was very inventive) and Sally named hers pepper. They were wonderful. There are pictures of Sally and I leading our bunnies around in harnesses. I also remember when we let the bunnies go into the wild. In retrospect, it wasn't the best plan, considering they were a screaming black and white when all the rest of the bunnies were a color very similar to browned grass... I'm guessing the coyotes looked at eachother and went "Really? It can't be that easy." Just as the calf, though, our parents would tell us that they had seen the bunnies often, and that they were doing very well and thriving, despite their obvious adversity. Santa Clause, bunnies and bum calves...my life has been a lie. Oh well, makes for good memories.
As William Faulkner said "Memory believes before knowing remembers, believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders."
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