Our neighborhood growing up was like the UN. We had Italian neighbors right next door. Larry was 6 or 7 years old and his father was an electrician. Our black and white TV always had issues with the antenna and Larry's father would spend hours in his garage-converted-into-a-shop fixing our TV I dubbed "Henry".
Shanta lived across the street and I practically lived at her house. She kept telling me she was from Ceylon which I could not comprehend. I am pretty sure I did not know I was Pakistani at the time. Being only 4 years old, my world only encompassed the population on my street.
My backyard was across the backyard of a Mexican family. I cannot remember the name of the overweight boy from their family who used to follow me everywhere. He was the cowboy and I was aptly rendered the "indian" as he chased me all over our neighborhood. Windows would fly open with people yelling at us to stop yelping and hooting.
My claim to fame at the age of four was my ability to ride a two-wheeled bike. My father started me with training wheels but grew tired of coming home after work and holding my bike while I wobbled for an hour. Our German neighbour, Godfried, who lived two doors down was the father of my best friend, Melissa. He was a kind and gentle giant. Over 6 foot 4, this statuesque man bent over nearly everyday to hold my bike and push me on my way. My father would sit on the porch of our house, peeling pistachios and cheering Godfried on as if I was HIS daughter.
After four days, the bike and I became one. And I felt the gears automatically shift inside of me. I developed a new found confidence. It also meant that I was never home. Like the teenage daughter who received her driver's license, my little green bike took me away from home, from my sister's howls, my father's disapproving looks and my mother's harsh bathtime hands to a world where I tasted the various countries I had never actually travelled to.
Germany, Ceylon (Sri Lanka), Mexico, India, Scotland, Italy, etc. I went to these exotic homes, learned the language (well just the curse words), ate the food, learned the religion (my Indian friend--whose name eludes me right now--had many pictures of Gods that resembled elephants who wore ample lipstick and were very flexible) and I eventually became a fixture in each house because it was a new experience I craved everyday.
I do remember most parents asking me if I had to go home. I would humbly shake my head and insist that my father knew where I was. Truth was, most of the time he had no clue and would wander our street and adjacent crescents for his wayward daughter. My mother would sigh as I left the house at 8am in the morning and return at 9pm at night.
My father would trek out every night, find me, put his palms together, offer his apologies to the owner of the house I hijacked and drag me home.
"It is not honorable for a girl to be out all hours of the day. People will think you don't like to live at home with us," my father said repeatedly.
"But I DON'T like living at home! I need peace and quiet," I replied, mimicking the exact daily sentiments my father passed onto my mother about my sister's incessant crying.
He threw his hands up in the air. "You think you are so smart? One of these days, you will learn your lesson" as he wagged his finger at me and lightly smacked my bottom. This loose punishment was a daily exercise I knew all too well and thought nothing of.
She understood my need and did not stop me. Now that I look back, I think a part of my mother left with me when I would back out my green bike from the garage and embrace each day's new adventures. Upon return, my father would sit me down in our living room, which in fact became the 'interrogation' room, while my mother would smile at me from the kitchen, with encouragement, as I rolled my eyes at him each time.
She always had my back even when she scolded me in front of him, which I understood immediately was a sign of conformity so not to elicit more anger from her husband.
Despite having a three month old baby and another one on the way, she ignored her own hardships to ensure I had two things: Love and Freedom.
But it would end all too soon.
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