Touching down in Australia, my eyes drank in loneliness.
The clear ocean water, shiny white sand beaches, and fresh fruits and vegetables piled up on the tables row by row did nothing to satiate my empty pair of globe.
My eyes drank in the blond hair and blue eyes, finding no dark hair and brown eyes to appease their starved gaze. My eyes appraised the cold lunch box packed by my mom, the hopscotch, and chalk drawings that replaced my typical afternoon nap.
Kindergarten Assembly
I witnessed everything and wanted to understand it all, yet the language barrier prevented me from expressing my thoughts. The principal came and held my hand, wanting to support me, but his hand felt heavy. I sought connection, not coddling. I watched a game of ‘Floor is Lava’ during lunch. I entered the gossip wonderland of the bathrooms where girls applied makeup and chatted. I watched the boys turn a regular trash can into an NBA basketball rim as they shot ball after ball of paper. I saw how different I was from them and felt empty. I lived to return home, throw myself on my bed, and pass through the portal into a dreamland. The salt-scented air slowly drifted away, and came the cigarettes burns across the balcony. The crashing waves softened and replaced by the constant honking of cars at 3am. I woke up only to realize that I would play the role of observer for yet another day.
I could feel the scentless lumps of the ham and cheese sandwich from my lunch box scraping the insides of my throat. Every swallow felt like millions of little needles poking my trachea and finding their way down to my stomach. Washing everything down with chocolate milk only created the slightest of flavor on my tongue. Sitting under the Eucalypts, on the old squeaky wooden bench, sunlight found its way onto my five-year-old face.
“Fight, Fight, Fight!” The words echoed throughout the whole school, bouncing off walls and into my ears. Following the noise, I emerged from the wooden lip of my hiding place to witness the lunchroom brawl. Through the gaps of students’ shoulders, I saw one boy fling a strand of grapes at another boy. The purple grapes rolled out on the cafeteria floor, scattered around like pupils staring from all angles. Immediately, the other boy retaliated with a sandwich. Bacon, eggs and bits of bread flew across the room as it disintegrated in mid-air. A carton of yogurt arced in a beautiful parabola, finally splattering all over the art gallery posters. A streak of ketchup emerged beneath one of the boy’s eyes like a bloody tear while the other stared with unquenched hunger and thirst. They were not warriors though; they were stray beasts found in a lonely zoo.
Then, I saw her. A little girl standing in the corner of two walls, with a meatball beside her shoe. The shoe, perfectly white and clean, free from scraps, was now standing in a puddle of sauce. The shoes were perfectly still, waiting for her eyes, wide and dark to drink it all in. She was utterly alone. Covering her ears from hearing the word “snitch” screamed at her over and over again, her tiny head cowered.
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Kicking my swimming bag with my knees again and again, I asked myself: What if I was sitting somewhere else, would I have heard them shout? What if I didn’t hear them shout, would I have seen what I’ve seen? My eyes saw what I saw. Funny thing. What would I have seen from another angle? What if I only had one eye, would I have missed the little girl standing in the corner? No one could explain what they saw to match the truth perfectly, and no one could hold what they’ve seen with their eyes in their mind forever. People see and people forget. But never have I thought that one day I would retrieve her from the back of my mind, and she would become that savior once again.
I felt a gush wind fly by, carrying a light scent of Sol De Janeiro perfume. Luna walked with confidence along with her luscious black bob bouncing up and down. She looked at people with those big eyes that instantly showed her power and presence.
“你想跟我一起合作吗” (Do you want to work with me?)” I rubbed my sweaty palms on my blue skirt, nervously looking at her twitched eyebrows and squinted eyes.
“Sorry, I can’t understand what you said” And with that single statement, she walked away and went back to laugh with her friends.
I could feel my face getting red, my whole body getting hot. My eyes started swelling, and my lips continued trembling. My arm then felt a gentle touch; another little girl approached me: Isabella. She was one of the “rich kids” in our class, with cute bows in her blond hair and a fancy Smiggles lunch box. I quickly recognized her as the victim from the lunch brawl.
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“You could join us.” She waved me over to her and Elsa. For the next few days, we always worked together. When they talked, I just looked at their mouths and slowly copied. Through observing and listening to their conversation every day, my English improved. They would also constantly ask me simple questions like “How are you?” My eyes gained in warmth and light over those next few days as they filled with connection and a sense of camaraderie.
I now understood how our eyes could only see pure darkness until a light illuminates the path.
The first time I had this feeling or understood the term “crush” was the first time I walked into the classroom of my art class elective. His brunette hair and astonishing height pulled my eyes in his direction. I witnessed his gentle way of holding a paint brush, his detailed way of fixing an imperfection on his sun set painting, his careful way of wiping the splashes of paint on his white T-shirt…
“Wow, you are obsessed with him. Just add his snap,” My friend chided me, ensuring that she emphasized the word “obsessed” with her iconic eye roll.
“I can’t ugh! It is TOO embarrassing. Plus, does he even know who I am?”
“Give me your phone.” She took over my phone out of my hand. She fended off my desperate attempts to get it back and swiped directly to Snapchat.
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“Here. I added him for you. You’re welcome!” She handed back my phone.
I couldn’t exactly say I was mad, but I couldn’t exactly say I was thankful for what she did as well. That night, I texted “hi” to him and asked how he was doing.
I waited and waited and waited. Every notification banner that popped up on my screen, I checked instantly. Excited that a message came in, and disappointed every time to see it was not from him. My heart would start pumping fast as if it had extra fuel added in, then sink to the very bottom seeing that it was just my other friends sending me a snap. I opened the snap map to see when he was last active. 30 minutes ago, “Hello? Are you kidding me?” I had waited for 3 hours already, and he was just active. Does he just not want to reply to me, or did he not see my message? Or worse, does he not know who I am?
Finally, I saw he opened the message. The little thinking bobble head came up then went down again. So, I waited and waited again. The next morning, I saw a message. I prepared myself to think about what he would say. I gathered myself and clicked it open. “Good,” it said. I was confused, swiped out then in again, afraid that it was just snap chat not loading again, but it remained the same.
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“That’s it, he hates me,” I told my friend. She said that’s just how boys work sometimes, and I don’t really get what you see in him anyway.
For the next few nights, I spent hours lying in bed dreaming about the encounters we would have at school. Would he say hi to me? Would he care about how I was doing? Would we paint something together? Forever had passed when I finally evicted him from my heart.
My eyes took everything in, feeling lonely and empty, like nothing had happened, but my heart felt otherwise. It was like I was on a roller coaster. The emotions caused by someone whom I didn’t even know hung me in mid-air.
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Under the vast Australian sky, I learnt to let go and not worry so much. There must be a god above us watching over us with eyes full of knowledge, love, and wonder. Eyes that never look lost, empty, meaningless. I had worked so hard getting rid of the loneliness I felt, but sometimes even loneliness brings the essential emotions into our lives. The human eye always demands more to see, more understanding. But perhaps it is the invisible that gives light. Perhaps it is what we cannot see that gives life. Perhaps it requires seeing the god who says: “I am the Bread of Life: he who comes to Me shall not hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst” (John 6:35).
