Something I don't remember clearly? Pretty much everything before yesterday...

I wish I could romanticize something here about contending points of view on something really crucial to my development as a thinking and reasoning person. I really can't though. I remember clearly when I first learned how to ride my bike. And I was alone, too, so I can't fight with anyone about it. I don't talk to my first boyfriend, so I can't compare our versions of first-time sex with each other, which I think would've been really funny, hysterical even. Too bad.
Anyway. My best friend is currently out of town, so I can't rehash my version of our first awkward "here's my number call me we can hang out and eat bbq chips and watch lord of the rings together" episode when we were 14 and wearing really stupidly oversized army jackets and not combing our hair.
So I'll default to what, I believe, is my first memory ever, albeit its hazy, but thats the point. Somewhere deep in my gut I know this to be true, that I, still a babe in diapers, sat under a shiny new car and watched my young father negotiate with the salesman over the price. It was hot, I think, blazing and sterile, like South Florida tends to be all year long, without a cloud in the sky, the sun bleaching everything an unattractive translucency. I cant even say colorless, that implies white. This is a gross viscous see-through that makes you think the humidity in the air isnt simply moisture, but all of the sweat from everything, indoors and out, in a 10-mile radius. Horses and dog saliva included. Anyway, I think I am in diapers. I think I am sitting under the bumper of probably a Honda, because my father bought and drove a brand new Honda Accord for the first few years of my life. I think I remember him gesticulating, too, probably in anger at what is probably an idiotic and obstinate and short, but I don't think overweight, car salesman. I want to say I began to crawl to him, happily at that, I'd be lying if I said I did. Thinking too much about it makes me create things that more than likely didn't happen. All this is only a split second, the maybe/maybe-not-memory of this moment a tiny blip amongst other things I don't really remember that well, like my 23rd birthday, my friends' 23rd birthdays, Thanksgiving four years ago when I got drunk on champagne and Chambord in front of my born-again uncle. It was funny, thats all I really remember about that.