By Rabbani Batra

I run across the field.

Stop. Wait. Rewind. 

I don’t remember the first time I cried. But I remember the second. Or maybe it was the third. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is I cried till I couldn’t cry anymore. I don’t remember what I cried about, but I do remember the relief I felt after crying—that letting go. I have been chasing that feeling ever since. 

The tree across the street from my childhood home was my haven. In my mind, fairies danced around it at night to keep away the goblins, and the little mushrooms beside the tree were where they hid during the day. I was so captivated by the idea of those fairies that I made my mum build a small fence using ice cream sticks.

The drawing on the wall inside my room could barely be considered a drawing. It was a series of squiggles. In my mind at the time, it was the first masterpiece. I don’t remember drawing it on the wall. 

The pink dress was hung neatly in my closet; the true makings of a princess. The glitter and sparkles on it beckoned me to a land of magic and daydreams. 

Those are the total of all the memories I have of my childhood. I don’t know where they went. I like to imagine that they crept into the dark crevices of my mind, never to be found again. 

Sometimes when I am alone in my apartment, I try to fill in the gaps in my memory so I can relive my childhood again. The moments when everything was more bright, more magical. 

Today, I feel the need to get up and go outside. I walk down the road until it gives way to a gravel path and I don’t know where I am anymore. The stresses of work are creeping in, and reminders of an easier life are going away. I reach a field and suddenly I start running. 

Okay, we are back on track now.

I run across the field. 

I know today that there are no fairies beneath the mushrooms. The drawing on the wall has been painted over. The pink of the dress has faded away. I do not live across the street anymore. I chase the feeling of letting go. I can see it at the end of the field. 

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Rabbani Batra is a sixteen-year-old from BC, Canada. In her free time, she can be found painting, listening to music, and reading. Her art and writing often reflect her experience as a first-generation immigrant, and she takes inspiration from her surroundings. Rabbani also actively volunteers and participates in advocacy.