Cat, young and friendly, gray, patient with your childish clumsiness. Cat's eyes, green, frank. Soft.
Young woman's voice at the piano softly singing. "Tura lura lura, tura lura lie, tura lura lura, hush now don't you cry..." Clear, beautiful.
Neighbor girl climbs the stairs. The smell of fresh paint. Your grandmother says, in thick Danish accent, "Are you too pooped to pop?" Nightmare: something flying in the air above your crib, in the air where there should be nothing.
Earliest childhood memories.