My earliest memory is blocked by fingers, like when someone takes a picture with their fingertip over the lens. Everything is taller than I am, and everything is an earthy tone of emerald green. I stare down a seemingly endless path, flanked on both sides by dark brown wooden benches. I know they must be full of people, but I cannot see them.
I feel someone tap my shoulder, but I don't look to see them. I feel them nudge me forward, but I don't move an inch. Movement is no longer a voluntary choice, it seems.
Suddenly, off in the distance, a familiar face appears. Though it is green as well, it is distinctly different from the emerald forest that surrounds me. Its slightly neon quality clashes with the majestic sea of uniform color just enough that I am able to identify it from the distance that separates us. The characteristic diadem shape of the green silhouette that makes up its head stirs up something inside me that wipes away all my fears.
I unstick one foot from the floor, then the other, as I begin my stiff walk towards the comfort and security before me. The face grows ever clearer, I come ever closer, and then the memory fades, and disappears.