Little did she know

Full Circle Golden Child Healing Powwow

The last time I saw Riley, she was a year old. She couldn’t have been aware of me then. But I remember her having the temperament of a sociable contessa at a dinner party.

Now this is how this 6 year old talks:

Me: Hey Riley, do you remember me?

Riley: No. I’m sorry, but it’s been a long time.

She talks like a grown up yet all of her spunk is hidden in her soft spoken demeanor. When her dad was going out to smoke, she had the moral impetus to roll her eyes.

We’re in a hotel room in Atlantic City for New Years. It’s sort of level up vacation for some of the Bosuego clan. Growing up, our parents, aunts and uncles made every effort to go on vacations together. The whole clan would motorcade up north to see the grandparents or stay in a time share or rent out a cottage out on a beach for a week. This year, there is a strong enough contingent to be in one place in the East Coast.

Riley, being the only little person is the natural center of attention. As soon as the poor thing opened the hotel room, we barged in on her and tried to hug her all at the same time while squealing her name. She was clearly overwhelmed.

I’m an expert at being a golden child. I was the kind that was brown skinned and speaking perfect English in a land belonging to people who can only hope to be elsewhere. I saw my face in hers, as one adult after another tried to get her attention, ask her if she remembered them, ask her if she liked it in the US. A kid can only answer such questions so much. Instead of smothering Riley, I talked to her like an adult. She seemed to like that.

She spotted a graphic novel spilling out of my tote. She wanted to see it. It was The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi, the story about a girl growing up in 1970′s Syria, at a time of war. Naturally, I had apprehensions but I was more wary of saying no.

I read it to her anyway. I told her that if he had questions, I promised to answer them. Among her many questions, she asked what war means and then figured out that “Oh, it’s like when two classmates wanted a toy but didn’t want to share it.”

Before I could answer “What is a hijab?” she laughed at the drawing of a whole yard of schoolgirls playing with them and promptly asked to me to keep reading.

Then a ghastly episode came up. A movie theater in Abadan, Iran was set ablaze with people still in it. She felt uneasy on the couch next to me. She asked what happened to them. I didn’t have an answer. Going beyond the book seemed unnecessary.

Wanting to find out for herself, she took the book in her own tiny little 6 year old hands and looked at the panels. She saw the drawing of the locked cinema. She saw the drawing of the police surrounding it. Then the following page illustrated people looking like a ghostly pattern of flames. Marjane Satrapi’s did not hide the horror. Nor did she dehumanize it.

“Are those the people in the movie theater?”

“Yes,” I said.

Tracing the wavy shapes of people, she asked “That’s what happened to them?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. As long there was an explanation not coming from me about bodies being burned and people being locked in by other people for reasons difficult to grasp, I’m fine. She was fine too. Then she did something amazing.

She closed the book and change the subject: She claims to be confused as to who my mom is.

“Oh, so you don’t know who my mom is?”

“No,” she said, with an innocence that doesn’t know how to say “duh.”

I tell her who my mom is and her face lights up.

“The one with the glasses? Mama Lo is your mom?” (Mama Lo = grandma)

“Yes. So Lolo Jun is my dad.” (Lolo = grandpa; Jun = my dad’s nickname)

“The one with the big playground in the big garden?”

“Yeah. That was my playground. I used to run around there when I was little like you.”

She kept eye contact, leaned back and let out a sigh. What she said next sounded like something that’s been on her mind all her LIFE, as if it were a problem that can be solved:

“That garden is too big.”

For someone who is growing up with adults and waiting for younger cousins to yet born, her sense of humor ain’t so bad. With her as an older cousin to look up to, the next generation should be okay.