My earliest memory is but a blur. Fragmented parts of a scene. There are people, but their features are hazy. There are places and things, but they dance on the fringe of my memory. I recall letting out a squeal of delight as I first caught sight of my uncle. I ran across the room, greeted by a warm bear hug. It was midafternoon, and with the heat nearing ninety degrees, I needed no extra warmth. I pulled away and raced over the ottoman, letting the cool air of the nearby fan wash over me