Life is precious, at least in my opinion. We come into this world with a clear conscience, and leave with the knowledge that the world has given us. We see things, remember them, form a memory of it and store it in the most complex organ to ever exist, our brain.
But there are some memories which you wish you could forget and I have been trying for years to do so.
When I was 7 years old, my older cousin who was probably sixteen or seventeen at the time, was walking me to my grandmother’s house in Gujranwala Pakistan. I was a child, even though I knew the way, my Mother still insisted my cousin escort me to my Grandparents home to greet them and then come back to my Grandmother on my Mom’s side, home. I met with my Father’s parents who I adored and still do to this day, dearly. I hugged them and kissed them goodbye and then my cousin and I were on our way back to my Mom.
While we were walking back, that is when it happened. My cousin grabbed my hand and put it inside his privates. I remember I snatched my arm away quickly but he forcibly grabbed it again and shoved it down, without saying anything. I don’t remember how long he kept doing that. I tried telling his mother, I remember telling my aunt “He said something bad to me.” And her responding:
“I’m going to talk to him, don’t worry.”
This wasn’t the end.
I was eight years old, living in Qatar at the time. My friend Sarah and I were playing outside the gate that led to a small alley, which contained four houses. I was standing on the right hand side of the gate and Sarah on the left. I don’t remember what we were playing, but all of a sudden we see smell cigarette smoke. I looked up to a see tall skinny man with gray hair smiling at Sarah and I. He came up to me, throwing his cigarette on the floor and shook hands with me. Then he shook hands with Sarah. He turned towards me again and gave me huge grin.
“I know your father, I’m his friend. I used to work with him.”
I didn’t answer, I was quite shy around strangers.
He put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me against the wall. He put his other hand where it never belonged. I remember telling him to let me go, I wanted my parents, I wanted to go home to them. I struggled from his grasp, but he was much stronger and pushed me back again.
I’m just glad that he didn’t hurt Sarah.
I was 20 years old when I told my parents. My Dad was horrified, my mother was silent. My Dad said that he knew something was wrong with my cousin, he didn’t seem normal.
Memories are great to have but some are difficult to forget. But it’s alright, time heals. I want to thank my boyfriend (I will always love you), my parents, and last of all my aunt Laura. I healed because of you.