Little Deaths

It happened the first time at birth. Another came with her first tear. And though no one can explain it, there was one with her first smile, too. Many years passed, many, many years. Years in which she laughed and cried, played, fell, learned, and, in general, grew. How many times during those years? She doesn't remember, or if there were any at all. Even they were many years ago.
Now she sits alone, remembering a phone call. Could that have been the start of them after all those years? She thinks so. And from that point to this there were so many, so SO many she can't remember them all.
Ironic, isn't it? For so many years there were so few she can't remember any. And then there were so many she can't remember them all. Irony, no? Or just shit for coincidence?

My hair's red again.
Laters