me

I’m not sure how to begin, fore, I have always wanted to write but it felt like there was no pen or paper, well, there was, but there wasn’t a me. Sometimes, I too am here, but the passion for writing is lost. However, Today all that needs to be is here, pen, paper and of course, me. In fact, what a strange being this I within all of us is.

When I was little, I used to listen to adults socialize, sometimes they would talk about politics, business, professional and social issues, and I couldn’t understand any of it. I used to think that they were so wise to know all that they do, wishing one day I too could be that wise. I remember I was so young, before I even started school, my mother’s family would gather to play bingo. I remember it all so clearly, as the numbers were being read my mom would mark the boxes with beans while peeling apples and oranges for her and I. I used to stare at her with amusement, how was it that she could do two things at once that I could do neither of. I couldn’t cut fruits with a knife, and I was certainly unfamiliar with numbers. I felt like I didn’t belong, but then I would tell myself that one day I too could do both things just as my mother was doing.

I would fill my sweaty little hands with beans as the numbers were being called out in the background, then I would repeatedly ask my mom “Which one, which one?”

Oh how patient my mother was, at times she would whisper, “we don’t have that one” or she would point to the number as I marked it with a bean. It is unbelievable; those moments were so precious to me that I still remember the exact numbers. Sometimes my mom would fall behind because I kept asking her all sorts of questions.
“Iran!” she would call out my aunt with a loud voice, “I’m behind, call the number again,”
My aunt who had had enough of our curiosity would say, “The kids don’t let us play properly, that’s it all kids out now!” “Go play in the yard!”

My cousin who felt in the right would add, “Get out and Play!”
Now I could see, that he had entered the world of grownups, in other words, my world. Anyways, after a few minutes of refusing to leave we then got the cue from the adults’ tone of voice that it was our time to go. At first, our eyebrows were tied together but then a demeaning smile would set in, next thing you know we were flying towards the door. Racing, to see who gets to the door first, bumping shoulder-to-shoulder trying to walk through the door to get to the yard. Indeed, at that very moment, we were running from the world of grown ups and entering the world of pure love, and before we knew it, we were laughing and playing carelessly. Hitting each other on the head with the ball, chasing one another until we were breathless, using the yard to our full advantage. Picking up the garden hose, having a water fight without even thinking of the consequences. But did thinking even make sense to us? Nevertheless, we had an (I) within us, but it was a momentary thing, the power of being one as (we) was far more strong and passionate.

When I grew up, and stepped into the world of (I), I realized that the games they played as adults were to leave (I) in hopes of feeling (we), a child-like curiosity. Now, I know the numbers and I can peel oranges and apples with a knife, just as my mother did once. But now, to get to the yard, I don’t run with over whelming joy, pushing my cousin, shoulder-to-shoulder, trying to race him. But now, we’re polite to one another, courteous. Because now, every word or gesture can break the (I) within each of us, to a point where it might not be possible to repair. My older cousin doesn’t yell at us anymore, because he’s protecting his (I) and ours.
I no longer ask with joy “mom, which one is it, tell me!”

Fore, my mother is no longer on this planet. Now, these games are considered lame, why?

Because it no longer satisfies the (I) within, people are looking for games to keep their minds busier.
At last, the world has changed, and so have we.

Written by: Roshanak Fardniya