Do I Remember?

I remember, but do I really? I see glimpses of the past flash through my mind, but are they even real? And which came first? I'm not sure; I don't know. I hear my mother's voice and see my siblings faces on a Sunday after church. I feel their hands teaching me to sit upright and I feel myself falling every time they let go. I remember smirking when my siblings all had to do homework and I didn't, I remember washing away carefully traced letters in the sink, and I remember my babysitter giving me her necklace. I recall going out in the cow pasture with my other babysitters -my head got stuck in the car window. I recall playing in the driveway in the summer -I got the dumpy toys, but I didn't care. I was always on the far side of the driveway with the broken pink car, but it didn't matter to me. I was content just to sit there; happy to be invited at all. I sat on my dad's lap as we ate dinner and sat on his foot as he dragged me to bed. I laughed as we ran through the sprinklers in the afternoons. I smiled at the meowing box on the drier -and at the kittens our new "male" cat had a few months later. I remember our cats walking along the ledge on the side of our house. Fortunately, I don't remember the day we came home to find all three cats shot. Dead. I don't remember saying goodbye to my first house not long after. I'll hope always remember that red brick house, those three big cats, and those hot summer days. But most of all, I hope I never forget how good it is to be young.