I can’t distinguish my first memory. There are a few I believe might be it. They all have one thing in common though, they all occurred in the town of Naperville, north of Chicago. The fact that my first few memories are ones in the U.S. has created a riff inside of me between myself and my ‘homeland.’
One of my earliest memories involves walking down a hallway, my kindergarten teacher leading my class out towards the buses and cars ready to take us back to our homes. I hated this walk, I dreaded it, I felt like a cattle being put on display. Through the corner of my eyes, I saw the faces of older students who sat along the wall.
My eyes would pick up their faces and my mind distorted them, making their looks grotesque, surreal, disgusting, frightening. I would be anxious when the walk began, the first few seconds were peaceful, but the final stretch was polluted by these faces that haunted and scared me. I dreaded that moment. I probably had my first panic attack walking through that hallway. I’d try closing my eyes, but couldn’t see. I tried looking up, but I never knew were I was going. I asked my mother what to do, she said look forward; that I did, but eventually I saw their faces threw the corner of my eyes. Eventually I learned to simply look at the floor and keep my head down, it was my only way of escaping.
Only recently have I began looking up while I walk, I was accustomed to the cold rocks and pavement, the sight of trees, grass, faces, animals was alien and radical to me. I couldn’t believe all the things I was missing, and missed, by simply looking down. The story of the blind man being cured by Jesus comes to mind, so does the stories of tribesmen in the jungle who’s sense of depth is nonexistent due to the dense jungles they live in. All my life I was busy trying to hide between the steps I took, ignoring the beauty of the world around me. Tears come to my eyes simply thinking about this. How I regret every step I took looking down.
Tags: Naperville, sad, united states, walking
