The Little Girl

The therapist asked me for my earliest memory of myself.

I remember at age four standing in the middle of our living room floor wearing an extra-large, bright yellow t-shirt. If it is true that our brains are patterned after our childhood, than I am an adult that has simply grown into a t-shirt that was once too big.

If a child never learned to swim, do we expect him as an adult to hold a mouthful of air and dive under water?

If a child was never taught to read, do we expect her as an adult to comprehend a string of letters; such as, “Love is like a child that longs for everything it comes by.”

A child that was verbally abused may hit; and a child that was sexually abused may not like being touched.

If we can understand all of these, then why do people expect more from the little girl wearing an extra-large, bright yellow t-shirt?