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The first day of my life

            
             It was a beautiful summer morning, and my parents with my brother, sister and I had driven in our little orange-like car to our piece of land that we called "Berryland" because we mostly grew strawberries there. We also had a big green garage there that contained several interesting things and among them a plastic red swing over whose possession we always quarrelled. .
             The air was warm and ethereal. There was pure joy in the brilliance of sunshine. My three-year-old brother was standing on the edge of a balk with a heart-shaped hoe in his hands, lazily lifting it up and then dropping it down again. It seemed to me as if he was performing a magic ritual, even though I was not older than a year. Then I saw my mother standing in the distance and the picture of my brother's ritus was forgotten at once. Before anyone could stop me I was on my way, running with my tiny legs as fast as I could, towards the target. The next thing I remember was everybody shouting and screaming at a loss around me, wondering how the hoe in my brother's hand could have hit me. However somebody had still remained calm enough to lift me up and go search for help. Some minutes later I was seated on a brown round piano chair and something extremely cold was spread on my head. It appeared quite astonishing to me that I was sitting at a piano surrounded by a huge green flower which had climbed very far and hung down from the doorway. .
             Several years later when I spoke about that day, the first day of my life that I remember, my parents could not believe me. They said it was impossible that I could recall it. They were absolutely convinced that they had told me about it.
             .
            


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