With a cup of hot chocolate in hand, I stepped onto the roof outside my window. It was a
chilly post-rain morning and I didn’t have a clue why I was up there. When I reached the
top, I reflected on my memories. I envisioned this nine-year-old child prancing and playing
on the rooftop, following the paths of his imaginative, innocent mind which perhaps only a
nine-year-old could fathom: having a little fairy who grants all his wishes; a monster in his
closet to gulp down his little brother; and, of course, a beautiful princess to marry the
gorgeous prince and live happily ever after.
As I opened my eyes, I scanned the damp terrace.The gigantic walls that once
protected me from the outer forces of evil were now only at my waist. The colossal birch
branches that gave me a hiding place could no longer cover my leg. After gulping the
now-cold cup of milk, I went downstairs. I noticed something strange. What happened to
the “restaurant” my mom used to cook in? I swear she was one of those tall cooks with a
long apron and weapon-like utensils who used our long countertops to chop and fry
vegetables and meat. Where was that huge tray where all the dishes were placed after the
chef was done serving dinner? As I stepped out of the kitchen, the same strange feeling
crept in. I always remembered living in a mansion. Had it shrunk? When I asked my mom,
she gave me a perplexed look as though I had just left a mental hospital.
I realized things had changed. I heard several quarrels within our home, ones I had
never before noticed. I viewed sides of our family that I had never seen before. Adults
whom I had once regarded as the “bestest” people in the world were now simply minds
with thoughts completely different from me. The people whose words used to be right to
me were now wrong, although I never mentioned it. As I walked the streets, I hardly
received a smile or even a glance. People strolled along…