My Mama and I travel from Vienna to Madrid again. The night before the flight, I pack my toys. They never fit into the carry-on; I can never manage to take everything I need. I don’t want to leave anything behind. I end up crossing the airport while carrying the bag and several dolls in my arms. I spent years looking for two toys. The hippopotamus with a spring in the middle that moved when it walked. They gave it to me in New York, when I was three years old. I tore all the closets apart and never found it. And the big bear, the one that always traveled with me from Vienna to Madrid. It didn’t turn up either.

 

The book I’m reading says that sometimes, dreams are memories. What is it that I can’t remember?