And I Remember Mother And Father And Comments

I remember a mother, pretty and dark with deep eyes and all her teeth, with a big pearl through her ear.
I remember the stray lock that was always escaping from her kerchief, and how when I was little, when I was still at her breast, I would paw at it or play with her jingling bracelets and tangle myself in her skirts.
I remember a father, who would usually come home late and frowning but would smile anyway and toss me up in the air.
Sometimes he would come home and empty his pouch full of shiny things on the table and we would all gather around and play with the watches and jewelry and funny coins.
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