My earliest memory of her is looking up at her face as she smiled down at me with a dark cloth above her head which was apparently the ceiling of our old car. I looked out what I now know is the windshield and saw my father with a fro and wearing a dashiki walking past a pale yellow brick wall with a vending machine at the far side of the window. I couldn't see any further than that because, as my mother explained, I was an infant lying on my back in the front seat. We had gone to the airport to pick up my father's aunt. The wall I had seen belonged to the building at the original parking lot.
We were both surprised at how long ago that was. She said I couldn't have been more than a few months old. Yet, that was my earliest memory of her. She still has the most beautifully brilliant smile and laughing eyes.