Hey Mom and Dad, Remember the Time You Left Me Alone in the House?

“You don't remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened.” - John Green, An Abundance of Katherines

When I was little, I remember waking up alone in our house. It was a hot afternoon, and my hair was plastered down my head with sweat. Still feeling wobbly, I slowly got out of bed, dawdled to the living room, then wandered off to the kitchen/dining area only to become conscious of the fact that I'm all alone. I tried to check if my parents were on our backyard, but all the doors were locked, and I didn't see anyone outside as I pressed my face on the glass window.

I have to give credit to my four-year old self for not panicking or crying in that instant. I was even delighted because I realized that I had the whole house to myself. No grown-ups and no rules, just think of the possibilities! I could eat everything I want, run around, and jump on the bed, 'twas an impromptu party.

It was a blast sprinting in and out of the rooms until I caught a glimpse of a religious statue, which was fixed on the wall. A tidal wave of fear overcame me and I can no longer take my eyes off that holy sculpture. I was no longer running around, but my imagination was running wild. I thought it would step down any moment and seize me for being a mischievous child. Everything went downhill after that.

I started crying hysterically. I wailed and bawled and shrieked. The gleeful child who had a fleeting taste of so-called freedom was gone, and was replaced by someone trying desperately to get herself out of the house. The key to my escape was literally a key, and I couldn't find it anywhere. I searched every corner of the house, including the overhead cupboards that were off-limits to my small, unsteady hands. What happened next was a blur, but I remember rubbing a bar of soap on a doorknob in my feeble attempt to open the door.

The funny thing about this particular memory (and our memories in general) is that I remember the trivial details such as clinging on the soap like my life depended on it, but I can't recall how I miraculously survived. I can't even remember my parents' explanation. To this day I have no idea where my parents went that afternoon, and what had gotten into them when they thought it was okay to leave me home alone.