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she remembersShe remembers nothing of her childhood, hitting a glass wall every time she tries to remember that far back. She assumes she had a tragic episode of some sort, her self conscience hiding the memories. But she remembers running through a sprinkler on the hot afternoons, and sipping sweet tea with her mother out on the deck, watching hummingbirds sip nectar, as her father captured snails and all kids of creatures in little glass classes, mocking their nature habitat, just for her.
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She remembered once when her clumsy fingers dropped one of those glass boxes, shattering a little lady bugs home. She cried for the thing, distraught at killing a single soul.
Then her father told her to look closer and when she did, she realized that the ladybug was fluttering it's wings, if only a little bit. She found another glass box, filled it up with blades of grass and gingerly scooped the ladybug into the palm of her grubby little hand. It tickled, she remembered, as the ladybug scouted out her hand. S