I am a spilling out of my skin. I am unconfined, without definite borders.
I can't experience something new without tying it to something old. Like the time we did an art project in my classroom where we melted crayons, and the smell immediately transported me to Graham Road School. Mrs. Parks' kindergarten class. Kevin Black, with his messy blond hair, who liked to gnaw on wrapped crayons like they were chewing tobacco. Drool running down his chin.
Or how one day I watched from behind as my youngest walked away from me, and I saw my younger brother. His same gait. The same swing in his arms. I was ten again, the big sister.
Sometimes I am the middle, seeing the present but connecting it to the past in my mind. Or learning of the past and finding a connection to the present.
There are layers under my olive, freckly skin. There are memories behind my brown eyes. And I am much more than now.