My Earliest Memory

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A frou-frou dress. For me? In bright yellow? A cooling river bath. A fight between two brothers. An abandoned church, near a cemetery doubling as a hangout spot for the wharf rats. My little body bouncing to the beat of Bob Marley’s songs played off my uncle’s old turntable.

I can’t say with any certainty which memory came first, but whenever any one of those comes to mind, the others follow almost automatically, in no particular order.

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