The Immortal Infant

Today I went over what is perhaps my earliest memory, and probably my first philosophical musing. I must have been two or three, and I was looking out the sitting room window at the houses opposite, attention lingering for no apparent reason on a tree with bunches of tiny red flowers, trying to grapple with the concept of eternity. It was before I understood or knew about death, and I took it as read that my then present state, and the daily routine, would go on forever. My thinking brought the idea of change to mix in with this, struggling with my infantile inability to see how change could possibly occur. I wondered if the days of the same would blur into one long repeat, with no event demarcation to allow any sense of how much time had passed. That tree has long since fallen.