I'm lying on my back, practically glowing with happiness. My chubby toes twiddle in front of me, and I'm purely delighted that I can tell my body to move, and then it magically obeys.
So much joy. There's a fish tank behind me with creatures that move and dance in a strange world all their own. I love the Betta fish best because they seem to wear flowing dresses that fit just perfectly!
There's a bay window in front of me. And the sunlight shining through catches all sorts of dust particles. I let my feet playfully fall to the carpet, and that's when I take my hands out of my mouth and start trying to grab the tiny flecks that are illuminated all around. It's magic--my first memory. I'm so filled with wonder and joy, enough that it lasted a lifetime.
I loved everything to the fullest: those around me, the beauty of simplicity, even the warmth of the sun. It's strange to think that the sun is eventually what made me so sick. What inspired my first memory might also be the cause of my last. It's not a shock really; after all, it's far more common for people with reddish hair to get melanoma. And looking back it doesn't matter so much...not anymore. It's too late.
The sun made an impact so strong that it's what I remember very first--that and a pure joy of just being alive. I've heard that first memories can give us a glimpse into our purpose. Well, I'd say mine is joy, experiencing it and then trying to share it with others. It's that simple.
So, that’s my first memory, and, looking back, it’s the first time I experienced real magic.