When I was a gangly tomboy, all the computers in my uncle's basement looked like this. I wasn't allowed to touch them.

In Catholic school, from about 3rd grade on, we had computer class with Sister Cathy. In a room full of IBMs, we struggled to tell the turtle, Logo, where to go by typing in its difficult language of commands. If you did well communicating, Logo made shapes for you. My endearing introduction to computers.

When I was eleven, my mother was using Windows 3.1 as the secretary for my uncle's roofing business. She preferred to use DOS still, because she knew all the commands by heart.

In the summers, I would go with my mother to his house to play with my cousins. Sometimes when I was bored, I would draw on MS Paint. I didn't understand pixels or how they worked, just that I could draw with a square pencil or a round, or a slash. I didn't understand why there were only certain colors. I didn't understand computers at all. Just that I could interact with them.

I think they have always been creatures to me. I feel a kind of sadness when I see one with a corporate desktop or plain blue screen. In the future, they might be trash drones.

When I was twelve, we got our own computer.