First Memory

Light flutters on my eyelids through the forest’s verdant lace.

My tiny body bouncing in cadence with Dad’s steps.

We arrive at a wooden hut and duck inside.

It’s damp, cool, dark.

Water tumbles over mossy rocks.

Bobbing in the dark water, a large green ball.

Shiny and solitary.

Dad picks it up and cradles it in his arms.

We walk home.