What’s that?

A face.

My…mother’s?

I reach out my tiny hands, is she real?

I’m taking my first steps. Shaky legs, bent to fall forward and crawl, but no, that’s not how everyone else gets around.

Tricycle, my hands grip the plastic handlebars, I’ve got the biggest wheels on the sidewalk, showing off to all the other boys, not the girls, they’ve got cooties.

A beautiful girl, in the passenger seat, my nervous hands sweaty on the wheel, both from her and my newly acquired license with its goofy grin laying on the dash.

The windshield, a glass enclosure…

What is this?

I’ve done all this twice now, lived through all of it, and decades more to come….

…How long have I been in the tank now?

Bright light…

What’s that?