“Hi Mama.”

 

My name is not.   Mama.   My name.   My name is not Mama.   My name is Mimi. Mimi. It is a.     A short name.   A little name. A.   Nickname. My name is Mimi and it is a nickname. A little name. Not Mama. Mimi.

 

She is leaning over me.    She is hugging me.    She is saying something.   She keeps saying Mama.   She stops leaning and hugging.   Too soon. I like hugging. Serena hugs me a lot. She smells good and she wears purple. Serena wears purple and hugs me.   This woman is wearing something else.   Not purple.   She takes off the thing.   Under there is plaid.   Plaid has other colors.   Red. There is red.   And shiny things.   Not buttons.   The other ones.   They make a noise.   A little noise.   Click.   No.   Click is the door.   Snap.   That is what they are.   Snaps. They are white and look like.   Like the oyster.   The thing inside the oyster.

 

The one who doesn’t know my name is smiling.   The smile is bad.   It looks like a scary smile. No.   Not scary.   I am not scared.   The man who brings berries, sometimes he brings chocolate. He is here and his smile is not scary. No. Not scary.   The other thing.   Like scary.   But not.

 

Scared. I found the word.

 

“Scared.” I say the word because I found it.

 

The woman and the man who brings berries.   They are talking now.   The talking is fast.   I stop hearing.   The sun is out and the man brought me out and now I am in the sun. I love the sun. It is like hugging. I am waiting for the berries. I smile at the man.

 

“That’s more like it. You love the sun right? Shake and bake right Mom?”

 

Mom.  That is my name.   No, my name is Mimi.   Mimi comes from.   Mimi comes from Miriam.   That is my name.   My name is Miriam.   My other name from the man is Mom.  That is my other name.

 

“I brought blackberries today. You want some delicious blackberries?”

 

The man has a thing.   The thing opens and the berries are there.  I get a berry.   I eat it.   It splashes in my mouth.

 

I like berries. Splash. The man said they are black, but they are not black. They are another color.

 

She with the scared is not smiling now.   She is touching me and looking down at the ground. Her eyes were behind the dark circles.   The man said something to her and she took the dark circles and put them up.   Glasses.   They are glasses and she put them up on top.   On top they are shining.   She is telling me something.   She says daughter.   Her hair is gray and her face. Her face is old and has lines.   Not a child. 

 

Where is my child?

 

The woman is talking to me.  She does not want me to talk.   She is not asking.   She is telling. That is good.   I don’t like the asking. Except a berry. I like that asking..

 

I am busy with the berries. They splash in my mouth and I like the splash. I want more. There is more. With the splash I don’t hear the talking.

 

Then the berries are gone.   I check the thing and it is empty.   My fingers have purple on them and the man wipes them.   A word comes.   Iris.   Iris is a flower.   Sometimes words come. They come and I know them and I say them, because I remember them. 

 

Iris.  Iris is a purple flower in the spring.   Lily.   Another word.   I know Lily.   Orange.   This makes me tired, but I am glad for Iris and I say it.

 

“Iris,” I say.   I say it to my fingers. 

 

The man says yes.   Iris. You grew iris Mom.   And I remember.   The sun is here. It is on my face and on my head and on my arm. I have one arm in the sun.   The other arm is gone.   No. Two. There are two.   Two arms but one is cold. It is not in the sun.

 

There is a great thing on the woman.   A nice thing.   It is heavy and it has blue.   The blue I love. It is hanging under the plaid.   I want to touch it. 

 

I touch it. It is warm. I can say this.

 

“That is beautiful.” I say. Beautiful is a word I have. I have that word.

 

“Oh Mama,” the woman says.

 

“This is your necklace. You gave it to me when I turned eighteen.”

 

Necklace.   It is on her neck.   I touch my neck.   My neck.   It is not.  It is.  It is empty.   My neck is empty.

 

“I had one like that.   When I was.   A beautiful necklace.”

 

The man is talking low.   I cannot hear.   I am touching the necklace. It is shiny and then blue. The blue is heavy. The blue is old. It has lines. I know this necklace. I touched this necklace before.

 

“I had one before.   Like this.   It was just like this.” 

 

I want the necklace.   I pull. I am tired but I pull.

 

The woman is laughing now.   She comes near me when I pull.   Her head is down now because I pull. 

 

“Mom. Mom. Hold on Mom. Let Casey take it off. She will give it back to you. “

 

And the man keeps talking but I don't hear.   The words are too hard.   I pull.   In the sun I pull. 

 

The woman is Casey.   Her name is Casey.   I remember Casey.   Casey is my.   She is my Casey.

 

“It is a beautiful necklace. I used to have one.”

 

“It was yours.” The one who is called Casey says.

 

“It is yours.” The man says.   The man has reached behind her head.   Now I have the necklace.   It is here in the sun.   I am done pulling.

 

“There Mama. There’s your necklace. Do you want me to put it on you?” Casey asks.

 

The man says a low thing.   Casey says a low thing.

 

“It’s a beautiful thing. I used to have a beautiful thing just like it.”

 

“I know, mama, I know.”

 

The woman is Casey.   Casey is my Casey.   I give the necklace to Casey.   She is my.   I am tired.   I wait in the sun for Serena to come and hug me.