• lines and points on a mindmap wheel randomly spun until it lands somewhere I forgot, either by accident or choice. The earliest memory is dark flashes, an interspliced film of grainy images – my mother, half naked and fully drunk, her crying scraping the space between her stumbling body and hallway walls, and my brother (?) or half-brother (?) from my father’s first marriage or my father (?) trying to steady her, dress her, and reach the front door, the house dark but full of movement until my mother disappeared to another detox facility. My sister’s earliest memory is the two of us hiding from the sounds of our father beating our mother, and my sister, less than 3 years old, tried to get me, only 19 months younger, to stop crying.