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Rated: E · Non-fiction · Other · #1501447
memoir, my first memory.
My first memory.
It is night; the darkness creeps outside of the window. I know it, even so I do not know what is the window, or night, or outside, or anything else. It is only me; everything is me. And I am uncomfortable: cold, hungry and unsafe. The cold and hunger are not that bad. Darkness, I am afraid of it; I am horrified. I want to sleep, I need to rest, but it is not safe to close my eyes.

And then I am in my mother's arms, she holds me to her breast, she snuggles me to her body. I curl my feet around her side. She hums a song in a low monotonous voice and rocks her body. My body moves in sync with her in a slow peaceful wave. And this is the most wonderful feeling that I will never experience again in my life. I will never feel more safe and protected again. The night, the window, and the darkness disappear. And I am not my fear anymore. I am my mother voice, I am the scent of her body, I am warm and safe and I surrender myself into the peaceful sleep.
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