Ok, so for all who don’t know, today is

• my 23rd birthday
• Ender’s 4th birthday
• Verny’s 24th birthday

So, as I said yesterday, birthdays (or any event/holiday) get me thinking, but unfortunately I don’t usually think about happy stuff. But I love nostalgia. It’s fun and heartwarming to remember the goodness of the past. Yesterday, Verny asked me about my first memory and, actually, it is of a birthday party. My second birthday party, to be exact. So, esto es para vos.

My memory isn’t that great. I don’t know why, but I don’t have a mind for past details. I’m great with the present; I can remember to do little things and I always know if something’s been changed or something is different. But details of the past are hard for me. I can’t remember being really, truly tiny. But I have one clear memory of being small.

I remember sitting at my Crayola crayon table. I loved that table. I spent hours and hours coloring there (with Crayolas, of course). I was big on Crayolas. I had the huge box with the crayon sharpener in back. I was a master at picking just the right color for what I was doing (p.s. Crayola, your Caucasian flesh color SUCKED). So anyway, I remember sitting at that table in my party dress and having a huge mass of excitement in the pit of my stomach.

Perhaps I’m able to remember this because it is the first time I felt intense emotion, I’m not sure. But I remember literally not being able to do anything, so paralyzed with excitement was I. I was holding the balloon that you see in the photo and just waiting for the guest to arrive. Seriously, people; I was two… how many friends could I really have? But I was psyched. I mean, hello!, cake was on its way!!! (As you can see from the photo of my first birthday, I’m a fan of cake.)

So anyway, I sat at my Crayola table, balloon in my arms, just waiting. And then, I heard it. You see, the doors to my house we aluminum (it was from the 1930s) and when someone knocked, you could HEAR it. And I remember literally flying off my seat, full speed ahead, screaming towards the door. Such excitement. The strange thing is, for the life of me, I can’t remember who was knocking…