What do I call you?

Memories of a three year old. People probably raise an eyebrow when I say that I have memories from three years old. But I do. Vivid. Clear. Not many. Four, as a matter of fact. Four. They're all of you. My first memory of you coming to see me in the hospital when I had my tonsils out. They had to keep a net on top of my crib because I was a wild child and would climb out. You looked at me through the bars, held both of my hands and kept talking to me. I don't remember what you said. But I remember seeing you. I remember that I looked like you. An awful lot like you.

I remember when you took me to have my tooth pulled. I'm not sure why half of the memories are medical, but they are. I remember seeing carousels while I was under the general anesthetic. When I woke up, there you were. Smiling. I was happy. Happy to see you I'm sure.

I remember the night that you and she fought in the kitchen. You were making dinner. I got a little close and something popped out of the pan and onto my tummy. it burned me. A scar I still have today under the stretch marks. You knelt down and put butter on it. How very 1974. It still hurt, but you kissed it and I felt like I'd be ok. I remember our cat sitting there watching us. I remember wondering if the cat had someone like you?

I remember the day you left. You were wearing a dark colored pea coat and grey slacks. Your dark rimmed glasses just under your nice auburn hair. Me in my very girly little fluffy coat with my stylish polyester printed pants on and my roller skates. I thought we were going for a walk. We went about a block. You said, "I don't want to make your life confusing". I think back now and wonder why you thought I was confused.

Jump forward 18 years. I'm 21. I've used you in every argument I felt fire in. I've wanted to be where you were. And I didn't even know you. The hole you left in my soul, only had one filler. You. I searched for it. Searched for that. Searched for you. I found you at 21. I needed to see you. Needed to know what you were about. Was I like you? Did you know me?

I saw you and it was like looking into a mirror. I wanted to embrace you. I did.
Was I met with the same needy embrace? No.
I didnt mind.
Then.

We talked. Spent two days together. You were honest, which is the most I could have asked for. You hadnt wanted me. Once you saw me, you didnt know how you could have ever thought that. You also came to the conclusion that you werent good enough. Every time you looked into my eyes, you wondered how you'd ever live up to my needs. Was I that needy even at three? I was crushed and elated all in one sentence. You left. Left because you didnt think you could live up to what I needed. What was I supposed to do with that?

I decided that we move on from there. This was summer. By Fall you were gone. Gone from my life. Gone from life. Period. That was my chance. And now you were gone. You left. Again. Were my needs too much for you still? I hope not. Oh, and I looked, just like you. I never looked like anyone. Until I saw you.