my earliest memory
I was three years old when my brother was born. My unwavering love for him is the first emotion that I remember feeling. After he was born, I was no longer the center of attention in my family. My first vivid memory of him wasn't him in the hospital or even at home. He wasn't depicted in my memory. However, it showed my pure love for him at the tender age of three. I was standing in the hallway outside of our rooms. It was late at night and I am pretty sure that he was already asleep. I was wired, bouncing off the walls so far into the day. My mom was there, holding a voice recorder. She taped me singing a song about my love for my brother as I danced in the small hallway. There was nothing but sheer happiness and joy all over my face. I was as pure and innocent as I would ever be in my life. I stopped singing in front of people as I grew up and I never wrote another song that I actually liked. I'm sure that I was aware that I was not good at singing, but I didn't care.