my first memory

I have few memories of my childhood. The ones I have are usually blurry and muddled at best, but my first memory is very clear. My brother is my first memory.

I don't remember all the details, but I do remember being small...very small and being lifted up to see my mom and brother wheeled across the hospital hall. I saw his small face and must have felt a special kinship to his soul, which only grew with each passing year. I remember my mom smiled at me and ran her fingers through my blonde hair as she lifted my brother up for a better view. I loved him right then and there. I loved my mom a lot that day too.

I've loved her everyday since. She has been an incredible mom as she has allowed each of her three children to be individuals. She gave us wings and room to fly. And we have all flown in different directions. When life hasn't always been kind to us, my mom always has. She has been especially good to my brother. I think I love her more for that.

(As a side note to my dad because I know you are reading this and waiting for your recognition: I love you too for loving us in your own special way. I don't remember you that day at the hospital but there was a lot going on for a not-yet three year old. But you play a major role in so many other memories.)

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