June 23, 2021
Hello Strangers.
Somewhere in my memory bank lies a quick childhood memory that often comes to mind from time to time. I'm grateful this memory never disappeared. It probably was too impactful to be forgotten since I don't remember most of my childhood. I sometimes think I was hit in the head or suffered from trauma, but I never experienced anything traumatic, so that's weird.
I was born in Peru and was raised there until the age of four. My Mom was with me for about a year, and then she joined my Dad here in the States. So, I was left to be raised by my Aunt and Grandparents from my mother's side. My Dad had moved to the States around the same time I was born to pursue a better life. So it was all part of a plan they had, I guess.
When I was four, they sent for me, so I traveled with my Aunt to California. I don't remember anything before this. I wish I could remember my traveling journey, but I can't. The only thing I can remember is that I opened my eyes to a couple of strangers in front of me.
Everyone, excluding my Aunt, was a stranger to me. The strangers were my Dad, Mom, and an uncle of mine. I quickly glanced at my Aunt for reassurance as she immediately comforted me. After that, I met my Mom, Dad, and I don't remember my uncle all that much, but I know I met him.
I don't remember what happened after this moment, just that I was nervous and scared. I knew that I never wanted to be looked at this way again. That probably explains why I was shy for the majority part of my childhood. I was always one to mind my own business.
I often wonder why this memory hit me the way it did. Those staring eyes were nerve-racking. I felt judged and admired all at once. The expectations from these strangers were immediately set too high at that moment in my life. I felt like a new toy that everyone is excited to see, which is supposed to do incredible things.
Now that I think about it, though, it must have been weird for my parents as well. They were being judged and admired by me as well. Why did I care so much at the age of four?
Would my life have taken a different path if I would've turned out to be an inconsiderate little prick and not accept these people as my parents as quickly as I did?
One fucked up thing that crossed my mind is that although I felt admired, and that deep down, I know they were excited to have me there, I don't remember any screaming or chaos. So, were these people not overly excited to see me after all those years? And if so, is this what set the groundwork for an emotionless childhood?
My parents and I were never good at showing love and appreciation when I was a kid. The affection came later as a young teen and adult.
It's crazy to think that those staring eyes were just the beginning of a crazy time with my parents. The eyes don't lie, though. I know they were happy to see me but felt awkward at the same time.
I wonder what my eyes told them.
Comments