The sun is shining. I'm looking down at my hand, pressing it on the red and white ottoman. I'm trying to steady myself. According to my mom, I was about a year old. We moved just months after my first birthday, and that ottoman didn't make the move.
Most adults really don't remember anything before the age of 6 (unless there was a trauma), so I have questioned the veracity of this memory many times. It's weird because I remember just that -- nothing before and nothing after. Just that flash, that little moment in time.
But here's what clinches it for me: there are no color photos of that old living room, so if I didn't remember, how do I know the ottoman was red?
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