My first memory / Veronica Soria Martinez

My first memory
Is of my old living room
In a town where I no longer live
My brother sitting at the table
Excited to watch Ulysses 31
And complaining about me being obnoxious
Me under the table
Making noise with a plastic potty
In my hand

But shortly after
I have this other memory
I was playing on the couch
Head down
Legs up
And it brought a rush of blood
To my head
And a dry sensation
To my nose
And I remember thinking
That must be what death 
Smells like

And that brings me to a place
That I have visited many times after
And all those times bring me to one another
Like a hashtag.
There is this place 
That proves
For me
That time is circular
And this eternal continous present
Is illusory
And past does exist
And the future is uncertain
And it kind of brings relief
Because this eternal continous present
Can be a kind of a pain.