After the birth of my son:
I am a little girl, about four years old. I am wearing a sundress, I think blue and red with flowers. It has thick straps and a bow in the back, and it barely covers my knees. I am outside playing in the grass. It's late spring or early summer, warm and breezy. I feel the sun rays gently kissing my shoulders as I lay on my tummy in the lush grass. There is a dandelion in front of me, yellow, young, fresh. Sitting on it peacefully is a fat, fuzzy yellow bee, with a big brown scruffy neck. Without hesitation, I reach out and pet the little bee. No preconceived notions, and no adult fears. Just simple unadulterated bliss. This is the most beautiful memory I have, and probably the only pleasant one from my childhood.