Different

It all started when I was 3. I can’t really remember it all that well now, but I can recall the feeling. It was the first time I had done it, and it felt… amazing. 

My hair blew around, the wind passed through my clothes, and best of all, my feet weren’t touching the ground. 

I was flying. 

The moment, however, was cut short immediately by my father. He had been looking at me with wonder in his eyes a moment ago, but now they were filled with fear, darting around. 

It was too late, however. 

The Robinsons, with two kids a few months older than me, were staring. Their eyes were wide with fear, and they quickly hurried inside, with one more final glance. 

My dad quickly grabs me out of the air like a baseball, pulling me back to the ground. Instantly, my hair straightens itself. The moment is over. 

Dad quickly carries me inside, shutting the door. He looks at me with a form of sadness in his eyes. They’re filled with hope, but at the same time despair, I see happiness, but also sadness. I’m taking a toll on him. 

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It’s a sunny day outside. But it’s gloomy inside. I stare out the window. Kids are playing at the park right across the street, and others are walking, holding their parents’ hands. They are smiling, just like normal kids. 

I look down the street, where another family is moving in, only 2 houses away. I watch them closely as they walk over and introduce themselves to their new neighbors. I sigh. 

Everybody mingles for a few minutes. The new family points toward our house, and the others cover her view. They brush it off, saying that nobody lives here, most likely.

I look into my reflection in the window. My jacket pulls back all my hair, and that reveals the countless freckles on my face.

I try counting them, but give up when I reach the hundreds. 

My dad calls me, and his voice faintly echoes throughout the room. 

I lumber to him, grabbing my backpack on the way. 

He doesn’t say anything while he gets me ready for school. He knows I prefer the silence. He gives me a big kiss on the cheek, and then looks into my eyes. His eyes are filled with sorrow, his hair is unkept, and his beard is unshaven. 

He pulls up the jacket’s hood to cover my hair, and begins filling up my backpack with rocks. He doesn’t have to say it, but I know: no flying. 

We the head outside. Kids are playing, laughing, and having fun on the way to school. We pass by the park, and I tug my Dad’s hand. He relents. 

I head on over to the swing, the only thing I will touch at the playground. I pick up speed, swinging back and forth. I peek at my Dad out of the corner of my eye. He’s staring up at me, and the sun is shining brightly on his face. He smiles when he catches me looking at him, and he seems like a different man. 

I’m suddenly filled with a stream of warmth coursing through my body, unobstructed. 

My heart feels… alive. 

I close my eyes, and let myself fall into a trance. 

I swing, pumping my legs harder and harder to build up the speed. 

My moment is interrupted, however, when I hear shouts and screams. I look down, where I’m floating in the air. I look back at Dad. His eyes are once again filled with worry, and I can almost see the tears forming at the edges of his eyes. I try to come down, but I can’t. More and more people are staring, all looking at me with a form of dislike. I try to pull myself down, but I can. Parents start walking out of the park, pulling their kids along with them. 

Dad is now crying. Tears fall down from his eyes, wetting the ground under him. They come streaming down, not stopping. When I think that he’s about to run out of tears, a fresh wave appears. 

Gently, with all the willpower I have, I begin floating down. 

Dad looks at me, and I sense that he’s about to break. He does. 

He then shouts the forbidden sentence: “Why can’t you be normal?”

Instantly, everything quiets down. The birds stop chirping, the kids stop screaming, and the playground equipment stops squeaking. 

Dad then falls down and cries like I’ve never seen before. I see everything coming out of him. Mom dying, not being able to pay the house bills, barely making enough to feed me, and losing his job several times. He doesn’t stop crying, and I’m overcome with emotion too. 

I sit and cry for what feels like hours, but is only minutes. Then, I feel the touch of soft hands. They caress me, lovingly, until I feel better. I look up. It’s dad. 

His eyes are filled with regret, and an unspoken conversation passes between us both. His eyes are filled with love. 

He holds me in his arms, only looking at me. He ignores all the other parents, who are now turning and leaving for school. 

Dad carries me home, ignoring that he has to go to work. He takes off his tie and his loafers. He’s giving it all for me. He then helps me slowly into bed. Dad closes the blinds, and lets darkness take over the room. He then bring out a candle, along with a picture of mom. I help him place the two next to each other, and then Dad gets into the bed with me. 

“I love you the way you are.”

“I love you too.”

He hugs me tightly, and I feel safe in his arms. They pull me closer, and I feel happier than I have felt in ages. Dad starts snoring, and and I feel drowsy. 

My eyes close, and I breathe rhythmically. 

We fall asleep, hand in hand. 

I know that I have my Dad’s support, no matter how unique I am. 

I am different.