A Smiling Little Girl

I see her face. I stare into her eyes. I focus on her smile and I wonder to myself….. was that really me?

Who took that picture? Who was I looking at? What was making me smile? Was I really that happy on this day. Was that smiley little girl really me?

I know the day that picture was taken. I know I was 6 years old. I know it was July 27th, 1969. I know it’s because it’s the day my mother married an American and that smiling little girl is me because I was her flower girl.

I know all this, but what I don’t know is why I can’t remember any part of that day? Why can I barely remember anything much at all, about being little? Why can’t I remember being a kid?