Natural lessons

Every now and then I remember what it felt like before I was born. I remember seeing through my mother's eyes, understanding it only as she did. She took me around and had all of her conversations and since our minds were one we had them together. I was surprised and proud when we looked at their faces. Mom has always been really good at dealing with people, particularly men.  The only time I remember that this is her at work and I'm just looking is when I notice how successful she is. I hope I'm that successful when I'm born.

I remember being a baby, all the different colours that would eventually turn into images and then back into colours before I fell asleep.  I remember one summer in an apartment building, it must have been when I was one or two years old because I was born in June and it definitely wasn't that close to the beginning.  I remember looking at the leaves of a young palm plant. They were the sharpest things I had ever seen, those leaves. Each one pointed firmly in its own direction with crisp edges and a powerful point, except one. I reached out to grab one but my mom pulled me away. "Not yours," she reminded me again. I must have cried loud enough because she finalky let me grab it while holding me as she said her goodbyes.  I held it in my tiny hands caressing the v-shaped leafbacks applying more pressure each time. I laughed so hard to realize that as hard as I would hold it it wouldn't break and yet it wouldn't hurt me either. This now became my new favourite thing.  "Mama?!" I asked. I asked again and again until "Plant!" she finally answered. She noticed and respected my curiosity but gave her reply in such a manner as to teach me the notion of being polite. Politeness not withstanding, soon after curiosity got the best of me and I learned an important lesson; eventually applying too much pressure will break my favourite things - snap, it went between my fingers. It broke, I whipped my hand away and cried. It was my favourite and now it's damaged. "Yuh see?!" Mom said with the type of sharp voice inflection a mother gives to remind you of the virtue of her warning.  With that she pulled us away and used that as her cue to leave.  Later in life I found out when I broke that leaf with my curiosity it would still persevere but now with a mark from our encounter; I've since only tried to grab hold of the things that could be bettered by embrace.

Now at our house, a couple years later. I'm old enough to understand those types of plants only grow in warm countries and in the houses of people from warm countries. It's hot today. My mom has been telling my dad about how we need AC. I don't know what AC is exactly but it has to be better than this fan.  This fan is loud and it shakes and only points in one direction. Mom says I can't sit too close to it because I'll get my hand stuck in it and my hand will get chopped off. She was right about the plant and pretty much everything else I can remember so I'm sitting her far from the fan trying to fall asleep. It feels less hot when I'm asleep. Evening has approached but it's still sweltering.  The orange sun pierces through the venetian blinds even more intensely than the yellow sun of the late afternoon; I can't wait for it to set. It'll be dark and I'll be forced to go to bed soon after, which I hate, but I can't wait for the sun to set on this day. It was too hard to deal with. I didn't notice how hard it was when we were playing around but every time we stood still I was overwhelmed by an overhot sun trying to make up for past months of frigidness. Now as the sun pealks through it makes one last attempt to find me.  Final kisses to my skin before it has to leave, and she must; final burns on my flesh to remind me she was here, and she was; no indication on whether she plans to return, and she may.  From the sun that offers all it has we seek shelter, in the sun that shines calmly we bask.