Birth. It is not something I was supposed to be familiar with, we don't usually remember the day we're born, but we also don't usually remember the day we die. The first time, I remember my mother telling me, it was 69 degrees and sunny. A beautiful day out considering it was wintertime and almost Christmas. My mother arrived at the hospital exactly two days before my birth and I was born at ten fifty-nine. Twenty days before I was supposed to have been born. The second time is the one I remember all on my own. Without a mother there to tell me the beautiful story, and without a mother there at all. It was December 21st, a rainy, miserable day in London and the sound of screaming could be heard for miles. A young woman was giving birth to a little boy and ended up having twins, she didn't live long enough to know about her daughter. That day two children were born without parents. A little boy named Tom, and a little girl named Alice. Mary Alice to be exact, although eventually, she would grow to prefer just Alice. Now, it's at this point I'm sure you're wondering what I'm talking about. "What do you mean your "first birth"?" "How does one remember the day they're born?" Well, I'll answer all of your questions of course, but first, I have to start from the beginning.