‘To know again anew’

On that riverbank I was rooted for years while growing, following the sun and moon, following the river's rise and fall. I spent hours – days, seasons – playing in the mud along those banks, making mini cities and neighbourhoods peopled by thousands of matchstick figures, going about their business, smelling their roses, feeding their dragons. Their houses were the same colour as my house – they were made from the same material, after all – but oh, their daily activities were far different. My father referred to this as 'Going higher than my bud'; my mother made huge plans for me.

Finally one day I flew away from that that riverbank, aboard a spring wind, wiping a few final flecks of mud from my feet. And oh, the gales that followed: I ran and I fell among the rainbows of women; and I sang and I slept among teachers and thieves; and I stared and I stared at wide-open vistas, peopled with people and blossoms and bees. I went all of the way up into the sky and looked around; and with the kites and swallows and clouds, I hung and I waited. My father referred to this as 'Coming into the country'; my mother scanned the horizon worriedly.