Through the Fence

I stand here now, a stranger in the land of my childhood. To look through this fence is to look through a mesh of clouded memories, where my past dangled, tempting me to return. The loneliness, the nostalgia, the pain. The longing, the lost cause and the dream. But I know I will always stand outside this fence, never to return to my past.

So close, but yet so far. My past, lurking behind this foul green fence, spiderwebbing across the perimeter, expanding till it formed rhombus patterns. There were holes that I could put my fingers through, scrabbling against the tough wire it was made of, but my body would never make the transition to the other side. Just as there were things that I could reclaim from my past, but I could never return to it.

Oh look, the goalpost. How long ago was it now? The gym equipment never appealed to me, even though all the girls hung out there. I didn’t care whether I was the only girl among boys to shun the equipment. We played the beautiful game, on turf constantly torn up and repaired. Whether it was mud or dust, the trusty soccer ball raced around the field, pursued by our feet.

Oh look, the school building, topped with green roofs, a myriad of orange, green, yellow and white. Within those walls, valuable skills were acquired. Within those walls, an education was received driven by competitiveness and a savage will of pride. The memories of sweaty afternoons, bent over papers sticky with humidity, water bottles like individual signatures on people’s desks…

Even though I stand alone, outside, my love never left. Yes, I return, to adopt the observer’s gaze, changed thoroughly now as I return to my roots. I stare through the fence, rewinding my memories so that they would come alive again. As I watch the shadowy figures from my memory dance across the grounds, I feel a trace of bitterness as well as a deep, unshakable yearning. Today, I stand here as a stranger outside her childhood home, too changed to ever return, while far away back to her present home, she never felt she truly belonged.

I clutch at the fence one last time, feeling the oppression of the grey blanket above me for the first time, and cry silent tears for a past lost forever.