Orange Push-up Dreams

I was born during a blizzard in April. My grandfather gave me an American flag and told my parents that I had nice ears. I was olive-colored with black hair. My mother couldn’t believe that I was hers.

I remember living in the old house. I remember bathing in the sink and how tall my older brother was. I remember the green front steps with a wrought iron rail. I remember the hail storm and crying when my dad went out to take a picture. I remember the cartoons on the television set.

When we moved, my brother and I ran up and down and back and forth on the ramp of the moving truck. It was August and hot. The new blue house. The neighbors came over and one of the girls was pretending to be a monkey. She would turn out to be my best friend. We would sit in lawn chairs under the sprinkler and hold up umbrellas and eat orange push-ups.

Early memories are a blur, but they are there. I try to recall my first memories when I have trouble sleeping. Sometimes I dream about those days.