In this memory, I’m six. Recently, my teacher has shown us something interesting at kindergarten. She inflated a polybag with water and tied the end tightly so that the water wouldn’t leak. When I hold it in my arms, the water in the polybag moves, making it feel like a living creature.
One day, I come home with my mother with another water-filled polybag in my arms. Shifting around its shape freely around my arms, it’s as if saying something to me.
“Look, Mommy,” I call out, petting my little creature with my hand. “This is my baby!”
My mother is busy looking at mails she has just picked up from the mailbox, and doesn’t see what I’m doing. Standing in front of the green door to our tiny apartment, I continue petting my water baby, my heart filled with a deep sense of satisfaction.