Once upon a peaceful sunny evening, where the planes take off and land, a 3-year-old cheeky girl was resting on a seat with her father, who was lazing away some time, as a mass of crowd paced across them. Faces of all races, the sound of their footsteps, voices of all languages, and the dynamic passengers busy with their trolleys and luggages never seem to leave. Playfully talking with her baby doll, the little girl grinned and mumbled with herself, wearing her new blue dress and red shoes that her father gave as birthday presents. Her shoes did not fit perfectly, she wobbled her legs up and down, bouncing herself on the seat, sticking her tongue out to her baby doll; it made her father smile.
From afar, an announcement was made. After adjusting to his neatly ironed suit on, her father checked his watch and instantly darted off from the seat; he quickly grabbed the handle of his luggage and the arm of the little girl.
The little girl tried to run, her short legs were almost fleeing from the floor, catching up with her father. Her tiny arm was clinging on to his firm hand, while the other arm was gripping her baby doll. Her serious, round eyes expressed a child’s surprise, her cheeks bobbed up and down, and her red shoes were barely on. They were passing between people, who were also running in the same direction and were becoming more worried by the woman’s voice in the announcement. The little girl turned her face to the right: dense, orange sky combined with light grey below, white airplanes with colorful names and drawings on them lining outside the building, and stairways were running around freely.
“Dad, where are we going?” The little girl’s voice shrieked between the rush of the crowd. Her father didn’t respond, his eyes were furiously searching for signs. They stopped for a few seconds, giving time for him to search and the little girl to take breaths, looking up to her father; he pulled her arm again, moving faster. Her shoes slipped away.
“Dad!”
“We’re almost late, Daresa!”
Her father stopped and saw her bare feet. Her shoes were nowhere to be seen. He kneeled, cupping her chubby cheeks. Her round eyes were staring straight at him, a combination of innocent and serious sight. He rubbed her short black hair that was covering her forehead. “You’re going to be a good beautiful girl, Daresa.” He smiled, tears in his eyes. “I’ll buy you new ones. There’s no time now.”
“Where are we going?” The little girl gazed at him, clutching her baby doll.
“Somewhere.” Her father teased, placing her arms around the baby doll. “Now, all you have to do is look after your little friend.” He carried her by one arm, pulled the luggage, and moved fast.
“Somewhere some place that you will visit again…” He hummed and walked faster, disappearing into the crowd.
(15 years later)
The little girl is now 18. Her red shoes, blue dress, and baby doll are no longer hers. Her round, brown eyes and the cheeks are all that are left, as an inheritance from her father. It was her decision to live independently, far away from her family, after her parents have given her everything they could.
Now, it is time for her to see life herself, whatever it takes. Alone, she was sitting in the waiting room, rocking her black leather boots up and down and around, which didn’t fit perfectly. She wrote a few words on the lined paper of a brown notebook, taking some minutes glancing outside the huge window that was sprinkled by the cold rain outside, hundreds of water drops racing to the bottom. It was after sunset and drizzling and the sky was orange grey-ish. Three planes were ready to fly, their lights looked like stars: a sight she loves to stare, and the sound of them can make her heart beat faster. She closed her notebook, took a deep breath, pulled her luggage and gathered into the crowd, soon into the busy life of New York City. She formed her best smile, a humming voice trembling from her lips, “Somewhere some place that you will visit again…”
“Somewhere some place that you will visit again
Where the planes meet and greet the people
From all nations who gather, run away further
Far away, from where you’re supposed to be
You can dance and bounce freely, then flee
Small footsteps you will leave in their hearts
Like needles sinking in the darts, marking a spot
Yes, a place somewhere you will visit, again”
YOU ARE READING
The Shoe Girl
Random"The Shoe Girl" tells the story of a teenage girl who was raised in different countries and exposed to different cultures in her childhood, creating her own, unique, "third" point of view as a TCK (Third Culture Kid). Visiting her home country, she...
