stories of a mariboulet, chapter 1

[maribou]

The earliest memory I have is of the texture of my crib bars. I even feel as though I remember the taste of them. Then I remember the act of climbing out of the crib - not the whole thing, just some vague midpoint, and the effort of balancing. From about the same time, I remember pulling myself, in the crib, along the wall by holding onto a little sticky-outy wooden ledge. This was in order to see out the door, without making as much noise as getting out of the crib would.