Toronto

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//Happiness hangs tantalizingly close, if I reminisce far enough along. 

Winter of 2012, I was in Toronto. I was deathly afraid of social interactions, frightened that my broken English would be mocked again. The indoor ambient felt restricting, I would find myself on the snowy fields often. Trampling over the white dandelions on the field became my recess activity. Seeds, white as snow, flew in the chilling November air.

I read about the International Space Station that winter. Chris Hadfeld had sung with his acoustic guitar in zero gravity, his guitar pick floated across the screen. I followed his gaze past the pale blue dot, I need to pick myself up. As demoralizing as the Canadian winters are, I frequented the field with children's books. I needed to build up my vocabulary.

$9.99 lobster tails from Loblaws, fiction novels from Chapter, new boots from Roots. Putting on four layers and then taking them off. Learning about baseball and building suspension bridges models. Buses that have pulling signals on the side, making a sound at the front. The shuffling briefcases under buzzing subway systems. Taking the elevator atop CN tower, spinning sunsets. Singly-repeat "Lemon Tree" by Fools Garden until everything turns into a yellow mania. Mrs. Law tells me I tend to rush my work. I can keep on slurping my yogo yogurt until the sweetness on my tongue runs out. The weirdly-bent tree by the park made its impression on me. How come it is so crooked? Daytrip to Niagara falls in my pink overcoat, watch the boat disappear into the mist. Isn't it all becoming foggy?

He said I wouldn't need the blue boots where I am going. I don't know what I would be like, if I had half of his confidence. Where did one learn those quick smirks and small quirks? That is a face that will never age again.

That summer, I visited my school one last time before I packed my belongings to begin middle school in the United States. To my surprise, a wave of gold covered the field that was once so bleak: the dandelion seeds that I blew in November grounded, sprouted, and bloomed. Beholding the dazzling language of nature in silence, I closed my eyes and ran my fingers through the aureate flowers. It was a form of fathomable elegance, the most purifying exhale of relief. Only then did I open my eyes and began my chapter in the Golden State: California, United States.

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