"Where the Wild Things Are"

When I was young, I was my grand parent's most favorite grand child but I was my family's most least favorite kid. I have heard my father shouted at me over and over again that he disowned me, that he has no son. When I was young I was the most bruised kid in my street. I have tasted all the punishment in the world. I was been beaten by a metal leash, caged in the chicken's coop, have a red hot spoon pressed to my skin, hanged upside down, placed in a sack and hanged on a tree while smoke from the small pyre are allowed to hit the sack while I am inside making it difficult to breath, I never forget the day my dad plunged my head into a bowl of hot soup, the day he smashed my head on the wall, and the day he tried to shoot me with his own hunting gun. I never forget the day my dad punched me flat on the floor and stepped on my head, I never forget the day I prayed to die as early as possible. And I never forget the day I beg to my father to kill me instead of hurting me everyday. Yes, when I was young my father loved his roosters more than me, more than his family. when I was young my father was never a father to me, only did he realized he had a son the day I left the house and only did he realize he was once a father now that he has a grand son. I am happy to know that he is tending his grand son, because this might be his way of redeeming his past for not being a father to me and in my own perspective, I think its a good thing that he is tending to his grand son because at least he will realize the joys of taking care of a son.

Maybe this is the reason why I was so violent when I was young. I love to tease and bully other kids. My school hates me because I was mean and aggressive, they hate me because I am unkind and loves to bash everything here and there. But they do not realize that besides that bully laughter I do when I make other kids cry or hurt other people, it was my own way of telling my father "Hey dad, look at me I am here..."

When I was young I was so wild that I was so uncontrollable...I bit my mother, growl at my dad, I pull my sister's hair, I cut off their dolls head and hang it on the ceiling. Yes I am also a wild thing. That in my heart I just want to shout, scream, throw things about, get angry, cry, smash everything but I can't I just can't. I can't because I am afraid to get hurt, I am afraid of being placed inside a sack, I am afraid to be fed to the red ants, and I am afraid to be hit with his belt's buckle.

But you know what? In every hit of that belt, in every tears I cried when I was a child, in every black and blue bruises painted on my skin, I drift away in my own world where I have my own friends who can understand me, it may be imaginary but at least they gave me temporary comfort, they may not be real but deep they treated me like a real person.

After I get the black and blue bruises, I run to my tree house and hide there, and drift away from the reality to a place where I have friends who carries me around and make me laugh, to a place where every kid like me called to "Where the wild things are". I hide in my own world for days to end....

I have forgiven my dad but I have not forgotten those days he took my childhood away from me, the wounds have healed now but the scars are still there and sometimes they ache. Today, I still enjoy the childish things I do, less the hitting, less the putting inside the chicken coop, less the hanging, less the kneeling on salt and beans, less the being fed to the ants.I still enjoy running bare footed on the grassy grounds, I still enjoy climbing up the trees, I still enjoy laying on the grass at night looking at the moon and the stars pointing at the tails of the shooting stars, I still enjoy the smell of the grass and the wild flowers, I still enjoy running free and wild. Yes, I still enjoy shouting names on the cliff and hear the mountains echo it back to me, I still enjoy jumping into the river, I still enjoy the cool breeze rushing through my hair. I still enjoy, eating fruits from wild trees and stealing eggs from wild birds. I still enjoy the simple childhood games, I still enjoy flying the kite.

And this makes me realize that even though I never really had a very memorable and happy childhood memories, I never loose the child in me....and I guess this playful child, no matter where we are or who we are, is in everyone of us and is just waiting for that right moment to jump and play....

~Thursdays with Maurons