Writing memories before I forget them

My next memories are hazy, hazier than the first memory. I’m in a house, a big house, big to me, surrounded by furniture and people and animals. My mum, dad, sister, George the mynah bird, a cat, our dog Tina. My memory is blurred as if I’m opening my eyes after a good nights sleep. There is colour emerging from the grey, people are talking, there is life forming here, mine, my parents, my sisters, the animals around us, creating life, creating memories.