You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October, 2008.
I have often wondered. Wandering in my memories, breathing in my past, asking for directions. I have thought that losing oneself is the best way to find others. This much of this memory I remember:
It was a hot and sticky day, a day in july perhaps. Some relatives had just come into town and we were showing them this city, and decided to step into a large mall. Of course, we were annoying kids, like kids can be. The four of us running around was too much for the four adults to handle. One in Sears, the other splashing water onto themselves, one loudly asking where the ducks were going. It was bound to happen.
One finally got lost. It had to be my brother. We looked in all the places we had been to within the mall. We asked around. Anxiety and fear slowly creeping in, filling up the spaces my mother would usually use to breathe with. Her second child, her only son, this was horrific.
How would you explain to the family that you lost a child, with four adults watching over the place?
But no one would need to answer that question. We found him, after informing the security. They told us he had gone to a restaurant and conveniently, he tells them that he is lost. Smart kid, I wished I had gotten lost, the frenzy of it all, he was right under our noses eating spaghetti and strawberries. They had called home a few times, thinking we had gone home, he remembered that much, no not names but numbers.
That day I made a pact, if I were ever to loose myself I would do it in a place that had good food.
Terri, aged 4, simply put it, well.
This story is quite simple too. It starts with a mother. My mother, she like most, is quite capable. She does many things that many woman don’t try, citing their gender as a reason. I think she throws out that reasoning when she empties the garbage bin. I have learnt this trait well, nurture obviously being favoured here.
I am fond of her toughness, her capability, her unceasing love. This one day was clearly shown to me. It was my birthday, a few years ago, a few friends had decided to throw a small party and I had gone. Even when 90% of the population didn’t have cellphones, I was clearly lucky (or unlucky) enough to be in possession of one. I had to call at three times that evening, to make sure that I was safe, once when I got to the place, during and of course once when things were over so my father could come pick me up.
I hated this. All of it, whatever human could sustain restraint. Not me. But clearly I also was impeccable at not noticing my ringtone. I probably missed at least 12 calls that night. Each at 3 minute intervals. Finally I called back, telling, not asking, my father to come pick me up. I was so irritated. Hissing out each response my father asked during the car ride home. To take the cake (no pun intended), my mother also joined in, calling throughout the ride, asking me where we were. I was tired, these two did not understand the meaning of letting go, letting me grow up. The calls successively came at 2 minute intervals, following us all the way up the elevator of the building, through the hallway, at the front door.
I was about to spray a lecture of hatred, include the fact that my friends had never seen this type of as, Natalie put it: “love”, where the parents are obsessively controlling their daughter’s life. I was about to throw a fit. I was about to…
But I didn’t. What waited inside chilled me to the bone. Three people stood, my mother, brother and my other brother (my brother’s friend), ”HAPPPY BIRTHDAY” they screamed. I stood in absolute shock. A cake in hand, streamers and balloons everywhere, I hadn’t noticed that I was being celebrated.
I wanted to keel over, vomit out all my thoughts and the mean words, but I couldn’t.
It was 11:00 at night and I was tired. And I smiled. And noticed what love could make you do.
Childhood stories are always welcomed with open arms specifically those with a tenacity to outlast time. This one does, one of my own. So I tried to match it up with a verse from a novel I dearly love.
With lives being much busier now that we had entered sixth grade, we usually ate lunch quietly and quickly. But today was different, us three, the three of us wanted enjoy the fading foliage and cooling weather; we wanted to eat outside. The three of us decided this but of course, being 12 year-old girls, myself and Aisha* fought over the position of being the one to sit in the middle. This position most coveted amongst us because both friend’s stories could be heard equally. And therefore this was of course the best spot.
Regardless, Aisha and I thought it through and argued that this time it should be Sara’s* turn because she had not partaken in the war of words and abstained with such dignity. The queen of good behaviour. ‘You should sit!’ we exclaimed. We found a picnic table to hold our appetites, and so we sat. We spoke about the geometry homework and then a few minutes later…Polp!
We all looked up to see a large seagull incline further into the blue skies. On Sara’s hijab there was a good size bird doo-doo, white and thick.
We all laughed and couldn’t help but stare with the wide eyes. Needless to say, no one fought over the middle position after that.
*Real names were not used, in love for these two, who I still know and love more than I did in the 6th grade.
you have left
an astounding imprint on me,
like the fall leaves that stamp out their fading presence on my sidewalk
like the graffiti that has not been removed properly
like the tea stain, spilled on to me
like the faint smell of summer on clipped grass
like the touch of your hands on my palm
like the wind, it too whistling through joyous wind chimes
you astound me,
your imprint left behind on me
