Just Now.

I am just now accessing this memory for the first time in... maybe 30 years, so please bear with me. It hit me just now as I looked at the record-selling (as of today) painting Portrait of George Dyer Talking on Facebook.

I'm about three years old, and my family is moving from a tiny house in a tiny town to a very large house in a small town. I am sitting on the thick mustard yellow carpet of my parent's bedroom, with only their bed frame and a dozen or so stacks of National Geographic magazines. The room is very cold, even though it is summer. This room is always cold, for some reason. The walls are dark brown faux wood paneling- the cheap stuff. I cannot remember why, but no one else is home, and it's been this way for hours. Somehow I know it will be like this for hours more, and there is only the light bulb and the National Geographics to keep me company.

I do not own toys yet anyway. My family was poor and my dad is criminally selfish, so when I feel like playing with toys, my hands become whatever action figures I want. Usually He-Man or Thundercats or G.I. Joe or major sports, it's something I'll perfect throughout my childhood. To this day my hands find themselves making the motions of a baseball pitcher or a karate fight. I would arrange the magazines to form buildings, forts, and villages. I've been in here a long time.

I learned how to read last summer, when I turned two. I bring this up now because this is when I decide to try and read these National Geographics. I learned how to read at Catholic bible school, toting my large, white leather bible and tagging along behind my older sisters. I think I was mainly going so my mom would have some alone time at the house. It only just now occurs to me that I can apply that same skill to these neat little books, and not just the big scary bible. God damn that book scared me. What a pile of shit. There are diamonds in the shit, but shit nonetheless.

I had also already figured out basic numbering, probably with the help of my oldest sister, so I wanted to start in order. I started with the oldest (by my estimation) issue and began reading. I read about African tribes, and Egyptian culture. I read about Buddha and dinosaurs, saw more breasts than I knew how to process, and looked at a lot of pictures. Obviously, I didn't read many of them that night. I read enough that I never really believed the bible again, though. Odd, that.

I think this is the first time I've ever thought about any of this, other than the cold room, the carpet, and the magazines.