Time

I am 2 or 3. I know this bc my mother has told the story a hundred times. I asked her once, with a laugh, to tell it, n she got upset bc apparently, it was still emotional for her. I am lost. They cant find me anywhere. They search the house in a frenzy. There is a forest or a lake nearby, they are frantic I may have wandered outside, into the dark unknown. My mother knocks on someone's car window. Nobody's seen me. Police are called, areas are searched. Hours later I poke my head up from the chairs under the kitchen table; the ones that were pushed up against the wall, the ones that were hidden by the tablecloth. The ones I had apparently decided to lay down on for a nap. I slept thru all the commotion until my sister, 4 yrs older than me, stood in the middle of the kitchen and, crying, screamed my name.

I am 16. We meet by coincidence at the water fountain we have drank from for years, in the hallways where we have passed each other thousands of times, aware enough of each other to say a random hello, but otherwise oblivious. We dance. I dont want to sit down bc I fear it will break the moment and he will disappear. On the way home, I lay in the back of the taxi cab, eyes closed, smiling. Once there, I close the kitchen door on myself and listen to our songs with only one light on, all the while eyes closed, thinking of him. I innocently mention him, I am told to end it before it begins. Our love is forbidden for reasons I dont believe in. I decide to follow my heart and my own opinions.

I am 23, and I am miserable. Every day I want to get in my car and drive far, far away, and never come back. I sit in the driver's seat a few times, but I never get further than the scenic overlook above the ocean, Linkin Park or Evanescence on full blast, tears streaming down my face. I just want to get away, have my own life, be independent, but every time they pull me back. By some miracle, I get a phone call from an old friend I havent spoken to in years. She suggests moving to New York City for my career. Why didnt I ever think of that? I had thought of other places, but never the most obvious one. I approach my mom. We are sitting outside in the dark. "I dont want you to look back on your life one day when you're 50 and say you never accomplished anything. Go, live your life, mama". She convinces my dad. I leave with their blessing, and of course, more than a normal number of warnings not to do anything stupid or scandalous. I arrive at JFK 2 1/2 months before my 24th birthday. I feel like I am home.

It is midnight and I am 30. I call my mother for the first time on my birthday and thank her for carrying me for 9 months and going thru the pains of labor so that I could be here. I call my father and wish him an early Happy Father's Day bc, 30 years ago, my birth and his holiday were separated by half a day, and he always tells me I was the best Father's Day gift he received. Later on that night when I blow out my birthday candle, I ask for the same thing Ive asked for so many times when I reflect & pray; peace in my heart and happiness.

I believe this decade will be wonderful.

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Many thanks and credit to 2 of my favorite bloggers for inspiring me and giving me the idea for this post. I hope you will visit both and stay a while, their writing is truly beautiful: abufares said... the world according to a tartoussi and Weebles Wobblog.