I have been known not to sit still. It has become an inherent trait from birth. And I have heard many stories from my parents about being this restless soul.
Childhood and utter restlessness went hand in hand. I was six years old and in Grade 1. A family friend was visiting us that summer and we decided to take him to Niagara-on-the-Lake to the flower clock garden. I was excited to go but then completely dismayed when I realized that we were not going to Marineland. My father said that we would only see the Falls and then the garden. How boring! I defiantly took off my seatbelt and rolled around in the back of our station wagon, waving to cars as we headed towards Niagara Falls. When we arrived at the garden, there was a delegation of people from China who were going on a tour of the city that day.
My father was talking about the history of the garden to our visitor and I became bored and walked away. My parents claim that I slipped through their fingers undetected. Oddly, I struck up a conversation with an older Chinese gentlemen, who spoke not one word of English but seemed to understand everything I was saying.
After about ten minutes, I realized that my family was nowhere to be seen. The older man sensed my panic and seemed to point in many directions. All I knew was that I was abandonned. I had dreamt many times about running away - the aura, the allure, the ultimate fantasy of having freedom away from parent's rules and regulations. All at the tender age of six but the reality quickly sunk in. I had no backpack, luggage or extra underwear for that matter. I was ill-prepared to leave the family and trek to Marineland. The delegation moved on and the older Chinese man looked at me with sad eyes. He tugged at the sleeve of an organizer and pointed to me, while waving his arms in all directions. The organizer briefly looked at him and then me and shrugged his shoulders. And with that gesture, the old man waved goodbye and set off with his clan.
I looked down at my worn flipflops and shaded my eyes from the sun with my hands. I looked around and did not see my family. How could five people vanish in thin air? I crossed my arms and began to feel angered. Maybe they left me. My father had always warned me if I did not behave, he would leave me some place where the gypsies would pick me up. I walked over and sat in front of the flower clock, pouting. I am supposed to leave them...not the other way around.
Half an hour later, my father plucked me out of the garden. I could see the frantic look on my mother's face as she held the hand of my sister and carried my brother on her hip. I had dirt on my knees and was missing a flip flop. Flower buds were tangled in my hair and my dress soiled from the back where I had fallen backwards into the garden.
"Where have you been? We have been looking everywhere for you! Why can't you stay close by?" my father yelled while his friend, with his hands behind his back, shook his head. He looked very angry--his eyes had bulged out and he was wiping the sweat from his forehead with his hankerchief. Our foreign visitor looked at me sympathetically and turned to calm my father down.
"Its ok, Sahib. We found her and she is safe. Let us carry on and keep her close," he reasoned. But my father wanted an answer. He turned to me again and asked where I had gone.
My father was teaching me at the time how to greet and address elders--a natural requirement in our culture. I was about to tell him about the nice chinese man and how we had this great conversation but I had a feeling that it would not count as a good excuse to be on the MIA (missing-in-action) list.
I grabbed his hand and exclaimed, "The gypsies grabbed me but I got away!"
My mother recounted this story to me years later -- I had confided in her about my short-lived adventure and she said that when I responded to my father with this answer, it took her everything in her to stifle laughter. She never liked the fact that he threatened me with conspiring gyspsies but she also said that my restlessness and lack of attention was a force to be reckoned with.
In order not to think much about my upcoming wedding, I elected to take a summer course at University. It was first year Sociology and I had a boring professor. Here I was, back in school, completely restless, wanting to focus on multiple things. You would think that I had enough to do but I figured why not squeeze one more course on my roster before getting married? My friends thought I was smoking something illegal but I explained that it would be only once a week, for three hours at night. How hectic could it be?
I was running around like a chicken with its head off. Hectic enough...not to land in an idyllic flower clock garden, but actually ....in the hospital.
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