4.

Table

The earliest images of memory are always connected to the colors, materials, shapes of
some objects: like a red heart shape of the glass, blue starfish, ah! Goldfish
and a round transparent glass fish tank. Until now, I still remember, sometimes to add
something to it, or throw away something from it, then put it in my pocket.

When my parents go out to work, I don't remember why I always stay at home or haven't
reached the age of kindergarten. At that time, my family hired a nanny to take care of
me. But it is often changing different people, sometimes older women, sometimes
young girls. There is a young girl among them; she is young and pretty. Every time she
comes, she wears a white cotton suspender skirt, thin shoulder straps, and her shapely
shoulders. Even at that time, I was still a child; It seems that she is the existence of a
beautiful girl in the cartoon, lively and vivid. She also has a skirt with sunflowers on it,
full-bodied yellow sunflower pattern printed on white fabric, with a summer
atmosphere around me, this is my first impression of her. She seems to be a girl who
lives on a tropical island forever. There was no impression of her in winter because she
left before the weather became cold and soon changed another girl. These young girls
are just like the fish that shines in the sea at night; they are swarming around, my home
is the coral island's reefs where they have stayed for a short time. They take care of me;
I am a young hermit crab living inside, shy, timid, and unwilling to move half a step.

She will lead me to a table in a bedroom at home, we will hide under the table together.
She said that only under the table is the safest. Sometimes she will cover my ears; I
always feel that she is talking something, what she was afraid of, I don't know. Every
experience hiding under the table is a secret between her and me, she did not tell me
not to say to others or my parents, but the child's instinct is to feel that I should not tell
anyone. I hid this secret under the table and wrapped it up. About a few years ago, when
I asked my mother carefully if she remembered this girl, she had forgotten it. Still, when
I asked her, I suddenly remembered her name: Xiaoyu, I always called her Xiaoyu.

After feeling more and more emotional with the house during this time, I suddenly
remembered the memories of my childhood. This is such a strange memory. Apart from
her and me, there is no third person present, and my memory is probably not reliable,
but I can narrate so many details. With the narration, it becomes more transparent and
more precise. Imagine that night, she took me under the table like a hide and seek game,
but who is catching us?