Once

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By Rosy Kay

         

         A long time ago, when I was seven years old, I wore a pair of bright green rubber sandals, they were my favorite sandals and I either wore those or went barefoot. It was the summer of my seventh year and those green sandals are inextricably linked in my mind to the first moment I understood the concept of time.



         On a blazingly hot day, I had been playing with my brother and cousins. We were playing cowboys and Indians in our cornfield. Running and hiding through the maze of corn stalks, taller than us. The safety of home just over our shoulders. We just had to look up and over and there it was the massive wooden gate, the entrance to our home. Carved so many generations ago no one knew when it was actually made, past down from within the family along with the pillars that surrounded the house holding up the roof over the veranda. I often wondered what sagas those pillars and gates had to tell. What secrets were held with-in their design? On that day, the direction of the wind was neither moving east nor west, neither north nor south. The wind just circled us, gently moving us towards each other. I stood in that spot frozen, the wind lapping at the hem of my shalwar, circling my ankles and moving through the holes of my sandals.



         I understood for the very first time that we were being propelled in-time. Some invincible force moved us, even when we were standing still and not moving at all. I was terrified by this magnificent and profound realization while I stared down at my bright green rubber sandals, the wind moving through me and around me like a python. This was entirely too much for my tiny little seven year old brain to handle. I realized I could not go back to yesterday, but that I was moving towards tomorrow. My past, present and future collided in a massive explosion in my head. I collapsed right where I was standing, beads of sweat collecting on my upper lip and I looked up at the sky, the bright hot sun beating down. I needed water and shade. I must have fainted.



         I walked in a haze for days.Nights were not nights and days were not days. Each day blended together in a black and white, always dusky haze. I think this is why dusk is a time of day that still makes my heart ache just a little.



         Was I was woken from a long slumber or still in a dream state? My dreams seemed to be in my waking thoughts. I could hear people talking who werenât speaking. Ghosts I trailed from room to room. I was in a state of limbo. Monsters came out from under the bed and vanished just as soon to my petrified relief.  Ghosts walked through walls without noticing me. I would shut my eyes tightly and tell myself they were not there.  I could not find anyone I loved. I could hear them and I would follow their voices to find an empty, silent space. Silent, as though no one had been speaking at all. I was left confused, terrified and desperately trying to wake up.  Was I asleep or awake? In the silence and the haze, I would look at my feet, encased in my bright green sandals, the only objects of colour and knew I was there, that I was real. I was alive.



         I became silent and withdrawn. I did not know how to articulate what was happening to me. My thoughts moved fast and body was in slow motion. Maybe I was trying to fight time. Battle it in some way so that I was not propelled forward. I donât know why I was so frightened. I understood the sadness I felt at knowing that nothing remained the same. This sadness though was the likes of which I had never felt before. It was not the sadness of being scolded or of being hurt by childish play. This was so much more, it was an entity feeding off of me and devouring me. I was no longer the same little girl, not anymore. I was now different in some way. A lost girl trying to find my way back. But as I discovered there was no going back.



I spent what felt like days wanting to cry and afraid to incase someone saw me. My parents were worried, unable to get anything out of me, called a doctor. When asked if I was sick or hurting in some way, I would say no as I bit the inside of my mouth to stop myself from breaking down. I was in pain and utterly terrified. What happened to me that day? I wanted answers but did not know where to look.



         And then I found my answer, no; more like my redemption walking towards me. A tall, strong, beautiful woman. My Grandmother. Walking towards me like some kind of elegant, wild animal, a lioness perhaps. Her chador flowing behind her like her mane. I felt safest in her calm and pious presence. She hugged me to her and I looked up at her as she bent down and kissed my face and enveloped me in her strong arms. With her beautiful smile, she said she had something to show me. Holding my hand she led me to our apricot orchard, sprawled above our house, where my wooden swing was tied to our walnut tree. We walked along the gentle stream that fed the orchard, where mint grew along the edges. Sitting under the walnut tree, she took out a little wooden horse. She had carved it for me knowing my love of horses. She told me that if I held the little horse in the palm of my hand everything bad that I was feeling would go away.



         Holding that beautiful little wooden horse, I began to cry, finally. My grandmother scooted me into her lap, wrapped her chador around me as I lay my head against her warm chest. She let me cry without saying a word. I cried for the seven year old me that was no longer the same child. I cried because I knew one day this woman, my grandmother who had just saved my life would no longer be with me and I cried because I finally could. I cried because the spell that was cast upon me was broken. Dusk finally turned to night, the ghosts and monsters moved into the shadows and I was no longer in limbo.

         Following that day with my Grandmother, I never again wore those bright green rubber sandals. They were nowhere to be found, it was as though they walked away and stole a little bit of me with them. I let them go.

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