beginning

i guess the best place to start any story is in the beginning.

i was born in brookwood hospital in birmingham, alabama on wednesday, october 25th, 1985 at 7:46 AM. i've always thought that i was born early in the morning because maybe i knew that it would be my favorite time of day. i've always loved the quietness of early morning- the way everything feels sleepy and hazy and undisturbed, with a touch of uncertainty about how things will turn out. which, i suppose, is a pretty good way to think of my early-morning birth as well.

things were simpler when i was born. my parents lived on a quiet street in a cute little neighborhood called old mill trace. all of the neighbors were young couples with young children, just like them. the house was a small, brown brick house with three tiny bedrooms. the kitchen was dark and cramped with yellow vinyl floors and a big window opening up to the huge, tree-filled back yard in which my parents had a swimming pool installed a couple years after i was born. my room was decorated in a peter rabit theme and there was a huge, fabric, rabbit-shaped wall-hanging right above my crib. the rabbit was light brown and wore a blue jacket with big, white plastic buttons and had a stuffed carrot tucked into his jacket pocket. i vaguely remember waking up from naps, standing up in my crib, taking the carrot out of the rabbit's pocket, and chewing on the end of it, pretending it was real.

my brother, adam, was three years old when i was born and my dad had a daughter from a previous marriage named lisa who was fifteen. she visited our house on the weekends and made everything tense but was so calm and gentle and fun when she would play dolls with me in my little bedroom. my brother disliked me from the day i was born. before i showed up, he was the tiny king of the castle with tons of beautiful, curly blonde hair and the most contagious giggle i have ever heard. then i came along and his whole little world shifted. i'm not sure he's ever forgiven me for that, really. he never quite knew how to share.

when i was about 3 years old, my crib and peter rabbit were replaced with a white metal daybed with a trundle underneath that i slept on until i was in third grade. i always liked that making up my bed really only consisted of pushing the trundle underneath the daybed and making sure none of my stuffed animals got stuck in the wheels. the daybed had an off-white eyelet lace bedspread and at least a million throw pillows (i still use one of the pillowcases with an eyelet ruffle on it every night). my mom always had this idea that i would be one of those charming, delicate little girls that loved wearing frilly dresses and keeping my shoes clean and surrounding myself in lace and anything pink, but i never have been. my parents bought me tons of girly, cutesy toys when i was young, but all i really wanted to do was walk around our driveway, picking up little pebbles and collecting them under the white plastic seat of my bright pink big-wheel bike. there's an old videotape somewhere that shows me, about two or three years old, wearing a little white shirt with tiny blue stripes and a pink embroidered telephone on the chest, tucked into some matching blue shorts. i have these bouncy, chin-length ringlets held out of my face with a little white barette shaped like a bird. in the video, i pop open the seat of my big-wheel and pull out a handful of pebbles and show my mom my collection. she tells me i should try counting them so one by one i drop the pebbles back into the big wheel, counting, "one, two, five, twelveteen..."i get lost somewhere between four and ten, give up, drop the rest of the pebbles back into their hiding place, jump on my big wheel, and fly down the driveway with my curls wiggling in the breeze. i've always liked that scene because i think it sort of sums me up in a lot of ways. i just sort of want to hold onto the things i love and not worry about things like numbers or counting in order; i'm happier to coast down inclined driveways, screaming "WHHEEEEE!!!" as loud as i can, hearing my precious pebbles clattering underneath my seat and the impossibly loud alabama cicadas chirping in the background.