Copyright 2010 Thea Atkinson
Cover Design: Thea Atkinson
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My first memory. Mother lifts me into frigid air and points at a womblike fluid similar to what I left so few days ago to say, "Ocean, Georgie. That's the ocean. Your daddy's out there today." Then she dips my lower part into the liquid, and I find it's not womb-warm like I expected. It's different. Much different. I don't like it. The white bonnets of fluid touch the dry stuff where she stands and disappear beneath the liquid, only to come again like the cotton caps she forever ties onto my head.