The only memories I have before 3 that I know are real are traumatic.
My Grampy’s funereal day at my Granny’s house. I’m being carried down her driveway. Everything is so strange looking because the perspectives are so different from the norm. I can only assume it’s my mom carrying me. All I really remember is the trees with the black stripes for the gypsy moths.
I also remember being late in age 2 and I go to cross the street, see a car coming, so I come back. Then when I go to cross the street, I tripped and just happened to land my knee on a sharp stone. I remember lifting my knee and it was just entirely coated in blood. (I probably could have used like one stitch. It healed fine. Still have the scar)
Then nothing much until around 4 or 5 when it starts to come together and be more coherent.
I want to know their language and philosophy. To truly be able to see into a mind so different from our own in any way. If we can even understand.