Thursday, October 4, 2012


Part three. What is fact versus fabrications, though, is something we may never truly know.



There's a gap between major events in my life. For good reasons, I think, but mostly because there are some very boring parts stuck in there. Like my childhood. Technically speaking, childhood ends around 11 or puberty, but mine ended at 7. That's when my mom and dad officially separated and I didn't see much of my dad anymore. Not that he was really in the time-frame before then, but for all intents and purposes, he was around.

We moved from the apartment complex at Calle de Amor into a lot on Calle de Dormir. We had neighbors on both sides, and to the front. These neighbors were just there, we didn't really interact with them much. My family and I lived in a trailer on the lot until I forcefully made the grownup decision to argue for a better living space before I went off to college.

Looking back, yeah we were poor. I ate the school breakfast and lunch, rode the bus to school, and didn't go to birthday parties. My clothes were never new, or pretty, or even to my liking. My older sister had her own room, I drifted between sleeping somewhere in my parents bedroom, the living room, and my older sister's room. My older sister also had a bookshelf filled with stuffed animals. Beautiful unicorns, colorful koalas... I didn't own any stuffed animals. Most of my peers owned stuffed animals and barbies.

When I was home, and alone, I would pick up my older sister's pens and pretend they were people. Just little Sarai, hiding at the end of the trailer, playing with some pens. White pens with black tops and black ink, to be precise. At that time we were introduced to novelas from the Mexican channels. So my pens and I would play novelas.

“Why did you take my girlfriend!?” I voiced over in a deep voice while I wiggled one of the pens.

“Your girlfriend! She doesn't love you... she loves me.” I wiggled the other pen in my other hand. Then I dropped the pen down and picked up a third pen.

“That's right! I don't love you... I love Roberto!” Then I wiggled both pens and made muah muah noises.

I played novelas with lots of household items. Hair brushes, pencils, rocks, sometimes just my fingers would do. Other times marbles, even though I just stared and marveled at the marbles instead of continuing my novelas. Shiny things are cool. There were even instances when I would lie on the bed and just talk the dialogue of my novelas.

It was an awkward time because my older sister was too old to play with me and  I was too old to play with my younger sisters. So incredibly awkward. One time, I tried to join in with their inflatable pool fun. It was another casual day, the sun shined in full summer Texas blaze. My dad had brought this inflatable pool home for the kids. Because, dad was always trying to get things for the kids. He always wanted us to have kid things.

The grownups filled the pool with water and my two younger sisters jumped in. I stood on the the steps leading into the trailer and exclaimed my interest to join them. They looked like they were having so much fun, I was a kid, and I wanted to have fun too.

You're too old. The adults commented.

“Old? Me Old?” I didn't understand. After a couple minutes of more talking, it was decided that I could go play with the water in the bath tub. You know because it's just the same as splashing water in an inflatable pool.

“Ok!” I agreed and somehow wound up in the bath tub playing with a bucket, a cup, and some water. I dipped the cup into the bucket, splashed myself, giggled, splashed the wall, giggled, and splashed the bucket. After sufficiently splashing everything and giggling, I showered and joined the rest of the party.

I was so simple. No kid, and especially not I, would ever turn down play time. Generally speaking, play time was just like any normal poor kid's play time. I made do with what I had.

1 comment:

  1. Nice piece. I love the part about the pens playing roles in your made-up story.