(I'm not OP, but this sounds interesting. Gonna hijack)

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I screamed and cried.

I calmed down in my mother's embrace.

I wriggled, happy to see new things.

I crawled. I reached for my toys and my parents.

I spoke. My parents were delighted.

I toddled, with help from father.

I walked. I moved myself without help.

I ran. I ran and played with friends.

I learned. Letters and numbers, skills and talents.

I loved.

I was hurt.

I loved again, despite the hurt. Despite the fear of more hurt.

I started a family.

I worked. I supported my family.

I saw my child, screaming and crying.

I saw them wiggling, crawling, walking, and running.

I helped them learn letters and numbers, skills and talents.

I grew tired, and stopped working.

I couldn't run anymore.

I couldn't walk without help.

I couldn't move anymore.

I couldn't speak for very long.

I watched as long as I could.

I felt my mother's embrace.

I left in silence.