failed attempts to fly

i heard that you're happy without me

I got lost once as a kid.

I remember the smell of the rain and the cherry blossoms tickling my feet. Mom wore a flowy dress that danced in the wind with every step she took and a big sun hat made of hay.

I remember how beautiful she looked, her long wavy hair, her sun-kissed skin decorated with bright colors and vivid patterns.

We walked the market often as Rio would run ahead, waving to all the strangers he would encounter, counting his steps before it was time to turn back around. Mom always knew how to handle his never-ending bursts of energy. She never told him to sit still or stop running around, doing the opposite, "Now run in a straight line until you count to twenty, and turn around and run back."

20, 30, 40, 50, and on and on. The numbers increased until he ran faster than there was a sidewalk. When that happened, it turned into multiplication tables until the dotted lines at the end of the road signaled him to come back.

By the time we entered grade school, he was the fastest runner and the smartest in mathematics.

The personal challenge I set for myself was trying to veer through the mazes of her dress patterns. She never had to worry about me. I was always by her side. Always quiet, right there, to the point that she never had to glance in my direction.

Except for that spring day, my obsession with cherry blossoms caught my attention.

Mom cried often. Most nights, after she put us to bed, I could hear her sniffling.

I heard crying that morning as soon as father went to work, and I wanted to cheer her up.

"She would like this. It matches the color of her dress." That's the thought I had as I strayed for only a few inches, for a few seconds.

But when I turned around, she was gone, and the precious flower flew back into the wind.

I stood. I froze underneath the blossom tree. Mom never prepared me for what to do if I got lost, but even at five years old, I was brave. I remained calm.

She'll come back for me. Right?
She'll notice I'm gone. Right?
She'll remember that I exist.
I'm not lost in a crowd full of strangers.
I'm alright. It's okay.
I won't be forgotten.

The sun began to set and I remain still. Even as the watery substance fell from my eyes, I remained calm.

"Are you lost?" A little boy asked. If I'd turned around, I'd see the elementary school I attended just across the street.

I didn't speak to the stranger, only nodding through my snotty tears.

"What's your name? Where do you live?" He had messy hair and dirt on his clothes from playing outside before he found me. He wasn't much older than me, yet he spoke like a grown-up, calm and collected.

"Can't talk?" He asked, and all I could do was shake my head at his question. There was no sound coming out of my mouth, nothing, as I cried in silence. "Can you spell it out?" Handing me a stick, I nodded and wrote my name in the dirt.

"R.I.N? Is your name R—"

"—RinRin!" The voice was high pitched, getting louder and louder, running towards my direction.

I saw crystal blue jewels covered with water as they cried out my name, and my muted voice screamed a cry of relief.

"Rio!" I repeated over and over in my brother's arms.

You found me.

Never been a fan of hugging or physical touch, but that day, I refused to let go.