The Words of the Fleisher Family

A Boulder Baby

Yongil Fleisher
December, 1999

There are very few memories of my first four years of life, even less of those before I went to Boulder Nursery. The only clear memory I have of the time before Boulder was of my mother and my father dancing. Weather this actually happened, or weather it is just a figment of my imagination, to this day escapes me. I remember looking upward, I believe from my crib, to see my mother and my father dancing. The most vivid picture of this is the room, it was pink, and there was a large window. Out of the window I could see firecrackers igniting within the sky. Their bright light only made the dancing couple even more vibrant. Occasionally I still see this in my sleep, hear the soft music in the background, and the smooth movements of the dancing figuresÖ

The next memories I have are very foggy, and hard to recall. Those of the small square building known as Boulder Nursery. Perhaps the thing I remember most is the small cement square within the middle of the building, my brother used to race a two-wheeler (with training wheels) around in circles and I, within my red tricycle, would try to catch him. I remember peddling faster and faster but to no avail, he would always out distance me, and often pass me, from his bike. The other memories I have are much vaguer, such as a Halloween suit I once wore. I was dressed up as a pile of leaves, I remember one of the people their walking me down a street, or perhaps a hallway, all that I know is that it was dark. Weather I got candy or not, I do not knowÖ and in the end do not truly care. What I do care about from my time within that small building are the feelings. I remember these better then any image; I feel them to this day. When I drift off to sleep I can hear the laughing of children, and a great sense of love.

In those days me and my brother where close, very close. I donít remember what we did, or where we went, but what I do remember is the love we had for each other. How we would stick up for one another, and keep each other company. I remember one instance when we where on a slide. I was in a stripped shirt, why I remember the shirt I do not know, but it was a stripped shirt. My brother was sitting next to me, and we would go down the slide together, time and time again. Another time I remember very fondly was on my third birthday (I think); I was standing in front of the people of the center wearing brown pants, a brown tie, a brown vest, and a white shirt. I remember looking up at the face of True Parents, then looking down at the seemingly mountainous pile of presents spread out before me. One of the oniís their asked me who I wanted to have come up with me to help me open my presents. I remember wanting my brother, he was wearing black pants, a Bo-tie, and a black vest. His hair was combed and shining with wetness. I remember hugging him, and with his help opening the pile of presents. What the presents where escapes me, but the feeling of love that coursed threw me, I will never forget.

As I have said time and time again, the images are not so clear now as I sit here writing this but the emotions cover me with their depths. I donít remember the face of my father when I first saw him, I donít remember running from him, but I remember with frightening accuracy the sorrow, and pain I felt after he left. I donít remember crying for hours on end, but I remember the deep wells of sorrow that coursed threw every part of me. I donít remember the cookies he brought with him as a present, but I will never forget the sorrow I felt after he departed. Even as I write this tears run down my face, and breathing becomes shallow and my eyesight blurred with the endless emotions that run up and down my spine. Thou I am still young, and have many experiences before me, never will I forget of the times I had with my brother, of the times we where together. Thou those pictures I remember may never have happened to me, and the thoughts I think I thought may never have occurred. The deep emotion that fills me up, the sandiness that brings me to tears, and the happiness that dries those tears from my cheeks is all the memory I need of those days in Boulder. If I forget all else, I pray that these memories will stay true, and powerful within my soul.

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