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I clutched onto my father, face tucked into his broad, warm chest that seemed to summon up all the protective shield wrapped about my head and, much more, but, not enough. I hated the feeling of falling, sinking with the angst of eventually hitting a solid surface of what seems to be a bottomless hole. The squirts of plunge came only in half expected manner, interwoven in firm stands, bewildering my senses that what I’ve stood all along could come to crumble so suddenly. I saw trees, rather, caught glimpse of their zooming past the window, my views blanketed with the half opened eyelids struggling to shut tight. The trees passed on faster, appeared bigger, turning now onto the asphalt ripped apart with white and yellow lines. A final plumage, then an impossible silence, and, THUD. Immediately after, another THUD. A mili-second passed, and with it turned on the blaring sound of sideway engine, ready to burst my brain up into thousand pieces, any minute now. The seconds lasted forever. I felt an uncontrollable urge to dash; moving ahead was the only dimension that existed. I don’t know when it happened, but heavenly, the lines outside began to last longer, and the noise subsided. I lifted up my head slowly, now drenched in droplets coming down from the hair tip, the face, the invisible glands. I looked up, around, and out, and saw the first time the darkening view outside, droplets on the window reflecting the ones up on my own. “Ame,” I heard people behind me say, then I heard other people utter, “ame.” “It means rain,” Father told me, as if he had grabbed onto my heart all along and now returning it to me with these magical words. My first word in this foreign country. And it means rain.
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