Remember (part 2)

I don’t remember being born
or how I came to be.
I arrived and here I am.

I don’t remember the 
very early years,
So dependent on my mom.
Her love, her safety
The spaces we occupied.

My first memory I remember
is when I was two.
My siblings and I were playing
with a plastic toy house.
My uncle blew cigarette smoke
through the second-story windows.
It was such a delight
to see the shape, the form
the floating vapors
that defied gravity.

I remember winters of
sledding down the hill
in the backyard
on my mom’s childhood
Flying Arrow sled.
The joy and momentum
of the downhill slope.

I remember our swing set
with metal frames and
hard plastic seats
that brought me to far away
places only in my mind.

I remember learning to
roller skate for the first time.
Clinging to the side wall
as I found my balance,
my courage, and eventually
my confidence to skate
on my own with grace
and speed.

There are so many 
moments that I may
not remember.
But the ones I do 
are cherished. 
And they connect me
to my siblings and
stand the test of time
as they shaped and formed
who I am today.

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