Thoughts of a Mute

Getting Quiet

A couple years has passed by. I went to a different country to visit some relatives for the second time in my life. I barely remember my first trip here. I was only two or three years old when my cousins, aunts, uncles, and my grandparents saw me in person.

My mom told me that they enjoyed seeing my face and my little smile. She even told me my grandma, or my nani ami was so shocked to hear that I knew how to turn on a computer and play games on it at such a young age. I still have no doubt that I could do that at the time. It's the reason why I study computers later in life; they're just so... interesting and there are so many questions about them and how they could help humans and animals.

Onto the actual story this time, my nana abu, my grandpa, was sick when I visited this time. He use to always stay in bed, looking weak and tired all the time. If I knew he was going to die the next year, I would've spent more time with him. I still cry to this day that I never got to know him in the time I had.

But I do remember on thing about him that was good. It was during my first visit. I remember I was crying on the floor because no one would listen to me when these large and strong arms picked me up and calmed me down. A soft, low voice shushed me and made me fall asleep. I felt safe with this person. I later found out it was Nana when I watched an old tape on him picking me up.

When the next year came, the year he passed, I asked Mom, Sara, and Brook stories about him. Sara told me, no matter what the horrors of the weather were outside, if one of Nana's grandchildren wanted something, he would go get it for them. She use to tell me that he would always help her with homework when it was possible, too.

Brook use to tell me of how funny he would be. He use to tell jokes and funny moments about my mom and her, I kid you not, six siblings! She had this one cousin that use to follow her everywhere, and one time they were on the roof, and her cousin fell into a trashcan! She wasn't hurt, but she had to take a really long shower with a haircut to follow that.

Mom use to tell me of how good he was at playing a game called Carrom. It's a game where you flick this huge piece around and try to get as many little black and white pieces in the corners or goals. There is this one piece that was red called the Queen, and she was worth a whopping twenty-five points while the black and white pieces were only five and ten points. 

Nana always use to get the Queen with ease, but he would usually let my mom and her siblings win from time to time. He was just that good, but he was always a good sport.

I use to cry every night. I never got to know this amazing man before he was sick. I never cared to visit him while he was sick. I never remembered to not speak about him in general. I remember seeing a picture of all of us as a huge family, and I put it in my room. My mom yelled at me and told me to take it down. I did take it off its high pedestal- a.k.a. on my cubic TV- but I still have it to this very day, safe and sound in a little shelf.

I then started to speak about him to my sisters, but they both shook their heads and put their fingers to their lips. I didn't understand they were trying to make me not talk about him when Mom was around, but then again I never use to speak to others outside of my house. I never had social experience outside of home. I had friends, but I was never allowed to see them outside of school. 

One day, my mom heard me and just broke down crying. Brook glared at me and cursed at me. She told me "Can you not shut up sometimes?! What the Hell is wrong with you?!" while Sara use to just calm Mom down and tell me to do something else. But I didn't do what she asked me to do.

I merely remembered Brook's words. Can you not shut up sometimes?! Can you not shut up sometimes?! What the Hell is wrong with you?! What the Hell was wrong with me? Should I just stop speaking to others all together? Maybe that'll teach me to shut up and not make my family upset because of my harmful words.

I quickly ran into my room, not caring about what Sara was trying to tell me, and locked my door. I sat against the door, the sunlight seeping through the window as the wind blew through my hair. I felt stupid. Useless hatred to my family's existence. I can't look at them in the eye ever again. Maybe I should-

Just then, the sunlight tinted a light blue color. I looked at it, mesmerized by the beauty, and I let it go through my fingers. I looked at my window and saw that a large blue morpho butterfly had settled on the screen. 

I walked over to it, letting my little fingers touch its little legs. It quickly flew in the air, startling me, and it flew into one of the many trees in my backyard. In awe by the insect, I ran downstairs, put on my sneakers, and ran into the backyard. Mom and my sisters ran outside, telling me to stop as I climbed the tree to the butterfly.

I was nicknamed "Little Monkey" because I use to climb everything. I use to climb on the stairs, the tall lamps, and even these huge trees outside. When I reached the top, my arms were sore from going so fast, and the butterfly landed on my nose. It opened its luminescent wings as I studied it. 

After a while, it glided slowly to the ground while my family was telling me to get out of the tree. When I got out of the tree, everyone was yelling at me, asking "What was I doing so high in the tree?" and "Did I want to kill myself?" I didn't answer them. Instead, I looked into the sky and had my first thought as a mute.

Nature is beautiful.