Blink. A few times more.
Lights gain contour and shapes move.
This is me at the very beginning
Not like conception, but at the start of memory.

The floor I am sitting on
with my legs daggling over the split-level
Is hard, yet warm. Parquet is the term for it
7 years later. Floor will do for now.

A tree towers before me, flashing brightly
Causing an assault on my eyes.
I think I can eat it. The round things look
like sweets.

Somewhere in the crème-coloured lounge suite
Below my throne an equally crème, equally uncomfortable,
Equally ugly set of couches and chairs
Laze in the afternoon butter-sun.

Grubby, sticky fingers draw abstracts
In the high polish floor, and I giggle at my
Masterpiece.
Something floats into my head.

Something? No, a someone. Mom
Later to be learned. For now, loud lady.
Incomprehensible jabber and noise
Fall out her food-cruncher.

Another floatie in my head,
It makes noises, but not like mom.
Mom tries to make its noises though.
It is soft like my blankie.

Update: Mom calls it Zeus. Also, it is
A cat. Zeus plays with the candy on the tree
No fair, I want it. Zeus also uses his teeth and nails
To hurt me, but his hair and nose hug.

His tail flails and bandies about in the air
Hips swaggering at my infancy
It looks good to pull.

Hissssss.
And the cat is gone.