He was smiling with me, but also confused. But when I'd settled down, I saw that he had the most puzzled look on his face. Then I laughed and laughed, and I remember thinking he'd be so proud of me for saying his numbers back to him. We went through so many others to get to it, and finally it had a name. I remember repeating it out loud-the last piece of the puzzle in place-and I pointed to him triumphantly and shouted, "Nine-two-three-two-circle-circle-four!" He taught me one, two, and three I was so excited. The secret of why those odd little figures kept hovering right above everyone's foreheads. I already knew my shapes-circle, square, triangle-so I picked up on the lesson really fast, and I thought Dad was finally revealing the secret. I was probably three or four-four, I think-and he was showing me on a piece of paper how to draw numbers and what to call them. That morning the city traffic was loud, streaming in through windows fully open to allow for even the faintest breeze. I remember the blue of his shirt perfectly matching the color of his eyes. The clearest first memory I have of seeing them comes from a muggy summer morning when Dad was sitting across the table from me, already dressed for his mid-morning shift. My earliest memories are filled with snatches of familiar and unfamiliar faces,each with a set of small black digits floating like shadows just above their foreheads. I 'M NOT EXACTLY SURE WHEN I first started seeing the numbers.
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