All alone in the moonlight
I can dream of the old days I
Life was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again”
Two: children just under two are able to remember things that happened to them a year ago or basically something that occurred half their a lifetime ago.
She was two, and he left. She was innocent, and he left. She had no saying, and still he left.
Did he loved her? Would he miss her? Would he remember her? Would he come back?
She longed for him, called for him, estranged him, despite not knowing him, still she loved him.
She searched for him in the crowd, on the faces of other man, on the lap of her siblings, on the arms of strangers.
She looked around for him, she listened for the sound of his voice, she wanted to be carried on his strong arms and thrown into the air, but he was gone, he was gone, he was gone.
Did she dream he was coming through the patio and running towards her, to them grab her on his arms swirl around while holding her tight so he will never again let go of her. Yes, she dreamed it.
Six: The lies we tell to ourselves and to others are the reason why the truth always comes up at the end.
For years her mom told herself that he was gone, not for good but for the good of them. To look for a better life to the then send for them and build a life together - Ohhh!, the lies we tell ourselves… -.
He proved the theory with economical and material supplies, never emotional, never a letter, never a word. Love was told in the form of food, candies, commodities, material assets and money support. It was the children’s alimony of the society in which they live. Love told through acts and material support instead of kisses and hugs.
Six was an age of discovery. Ly-Ang discovered that the woman she called mom was bitter, resentful, angry, frustrated, disappointed. All synced with the fading of the supplies, money and, if there ever was any, the epistolar communication. While saving that little creature with one hand she threatened her with the other hand. The concept of love became blurry just right there, and will stick on her skin for years to come, if not for the rest of her life. Ly-Ang like Ying & Yang experienced the good and the bad sides of the one person who is supposed to love, care, protect and cherish you just for who you are.
Six was thought, full with illness, injections, cures, baths, scarification both physical and emotional.
Six was scary, six was forgotten for many years because in the anteroom of the wisdom age, 7 years old, all a child wants is to have fun.
With fear came lies, with lies came punishment, with punishment came blame, with blame came doubt, with doubt came low self-esteem, and it could go on, and on, and on…
Sixteen: Don’t believe the promises
Time passes by, and life does not stop to give us time to allow us to pause and embrace every moment. We are pushed to grow, grow, grow and suddenly one is no longer a child.
A teen is a confused creature in a world full of discoveries and threats. One is fearful while fearless, eager to challenge norms and to brake rules. One is not a child but neither an adult. Everyone around you seems to know what is better for you, but you. Questions pop in your brain and answers fill silent rooms around you.
When the questions get answered, they are just excuses, but when the excuses are over, your are forced to go get them yourself. That is when you get to meet him for real. Not the fantasised idea of the dad you dreamed about, but the real deal, the real man. A man but not a father. It is curious how we venerate someone until we finally meet them and realise they where not what we expected. A disappointment…
The lies told to justify the actions taken. The half trues to present as the victim and not the villain. The promises that will never be fulfilled. The pride of the accomplishments they never contributed to. The blaming on others instead of the accountability of relaying on others.
Sixteen was though enough to also have to deal with discovering the other side of the story and realising it was not better than the one you had been told for 14 years. All lies, all half trues, all broken hearts and forgotten feelings, if there ever where any…
Twenty Six: The age of the innocence
As time passes we forget, as we forget we begin to dream again, as we dream we recover the lost innocence, as we recover the innocence we begin to dream again, and while we are dreaming we forget the lessons learned.
Time cures it all, regret, anger, sadness, broken hearts and great expectations. We forget about what has passed and we move forward in the hope of not being chased by the memories of what could have been but never was.
So, she moved forward to a new life, to new dreams and promising not to make the same mistakes impossed upon her. She moved forward escaping the trauma by closing the door to dose who looked like him, who came from the same place as him, who lied as he lied, who was unreliable, who had a past, who had baggage.
The moment he realised he was alone he called for her, hoping for forgiveness without repenting. She answered the call hoping for repentance but she got none. Instead she got pleadings for compassion and reconciliation, but not words of regret, no promises of making up for the years gone, for the words unsaid, for the broken promises, the forgotten birthdays, the unanswered letters and silent calls.
Time flies, and as it cures it all, it also creates scabs on the wounds impossible to peel off no matter how much we try. She couldn’t peel off the scabs, she couldn’t forget the facts, she couldn’t forgive the neglection. She left to never come back, to never look back. No tears were dropped, no hugs were given, no love were shown.
That was the last time. Two, Six, Sixteen, Twenty Six the times she show him, the times she called him “dad”, not because she believed it, but because she wanted it so much to be true. Two, Six, Sixteen, Twenty Six, the years in a lifetime, the ages of innocence, the ages of dreams, the ages of expectations.
Two, Six, Sixteen, Twenty Six…
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