Sing Me a Lullaby

I don’t know at what age science says that we start to have memories, and I guess I don’t care what science says. My first memory was when I was only two years old, lying on my back, at the bottom of a staircase.

I was upstairs, inside a room together with my mom. She was busy doing something while I was just playing on the floor. Mom didn’t close the door so I decided to go out, she didn’t even notice. The next thing I remember was walking towards the stairs. Then I heard my mom called for me. I turned and saw my mom by the door. She said I shouldn't move any farther. But I didn’t stop. I smiled and took a step down. And I guess I was too short since my foot didn’t reach the stairs, instead, I remember slowly falling headfirst down the stairs case.

I don’t remember what happened afterward. I don’t remember feeling pain nor do I remember crying. What I remember though was that a girl laid beside me while I was lying at the bottom of the staircase. She smiled at me, embraced me tightly and sang me to sleep.

For a long time, I really thought that it was just a dream. It was when I asked my mom when I learned that it was all true. As she told me, it was like listening to a story that I have heard a hundred times, except the ending was different. There was no girl.