I was born in a bush.
"It's not a terrible place to be born," my mother would say. "It's got soft dirt and the branches provide great shade when it's hot. You will be thankful for that in the summer months."
She would then wait patiently for me to respond before going on about something else, always waiting for me to respond before continuing.
I wouldn't.
Sometimes I regret that.
*********
My mother was born under a house, and so she was named.
"House," she would tell us – my brothers and sisters – she was named, "because I was the last of us to survive." She would then pause and wait for us to ask questions.
I never did.
"Why were you called 'House'?" one would ask.
"Such names are bestowed upon the survivor," she would say, even though she had already answered that question. "Many of us are born at a time, but in the end, only one survives. We then earn the name of our birthplace."
Questions and answers were exchanged in such a manner, us little ones thirsty for knowledge. My mother would sometimes pause and look at me, expectant, but I always simply stared back. I never asked, I never spoke, and she would just continue on as if she and I hadn't had our little staring contest.
I just listened.
*********
It wasn't long before our mother left us. She was run over by a car, but it didn't care. The vehicle moved on as if it had done nothing wrong. The body was left.
My brothers and sisters wailed and mourned for days, weeks, but I sat silently. I watched as my mother's body was picked apart by nature as she always said it would be. My siblings hid their eyes and cried.
I watched and listened.
*********
None of us earned a name for a while. Seven of us there were at the start. Four there were when our mother left.
The four of us stuck together for as long as possible. We knew we wouldn't live long, for we weren't as privileged as others, but we made up for it with fun. My siblings and I would walk and run and dance and play for as long as possible before we were forced to hide, but it was worth it.
As for hiding, we had to do it often. The adults weren't kind to us children, and the tall ones would snatch us up and make us disappear, or plain torture us.
While my siblings would squeal and dance and talk amongst themselves, I would warn them of danger with a tensing of my spine and a sniff of the air. We would soon be sprinting silently for cover and we would be safe.
Because I listened.
*********
A year into our life on our own and we were officially adults. The others would no longer bother us, and would now sometimes help us out when we were low.
"You've earned your place," they would say. "Not long 'til one of you gains your name."
They would look at me pointedly, but I would stay silent and they would move on.
I watched as they left.
*********
Weeks passed and there were only two of us - Me and my brother. The other two caught some kind of illness, but didn't get better. My brother would run around, looking for help, but I would stay by them and watch. It wasn't long before they left us, as well.
