Stepping Stones

Although everybody loses their childhood at one point or another in their life; I don't believe that it is all done at one time. I believe that everyday, you lose a little bit more, and gain a stepping stone towards "adulthood". Some days, however, you gain stepping stones that are larger. For me; there are not one, but two, big stepping stones.

The first one doesn't involve, what I did. In fact, I didn't have much to do with it. The first stepping stone was the birth of my younger sister, Tiffany. Though at the time, we were in different countries on completely different continents, her in the USofA, and myself in Taiwan, the second she entered the earth, my whole world changed. At four years of age, I went from the spoiled only child, to the older sister. I could no longer spend all my time thinking about myself, but instead, I had to learn to care for Tiffany too. The hardest part about gaining this stepping stone was a philosophy that came with it; sharing. Sharing was a foreign word to me; both literally and not. All my toys before Tiffany came along, were for Teresa, and only Teresa. After Tiffany came, they were not only Teresa's; they were Teresa's and Tiffany's. It was quite a concept to grasp.

I can remember that one time, I was playing with my barbie dolls. There was this cute little yellow fold out Barbie house where they "lived". It was my favorite toy; though I honestly don't know where it is right now. Either way, I was playing with my dolls in this house, and as Barbie was getting ready for bed; the then one year old Tiffany waddled her little butt over, and sat down; smack in the middle of the kitchen. Looking back on it all now, I can remember being very mad, and yelling at her. Of course, being the older sister, Mom took sides with Tiffany. At the time, I was very upset, but now, it's just another funny memory.

The second stepping stone, unlike the first, involved me directly. Half way through first grade, I had to leave one world behind, and find another. I was born, and brought up until 1990 in Taiwan, clear across the globe. When I was about six or seven years old, I came to the USofA, to stay. This was a very big step.

Try to imagine this: you're a little girl (or boy), and all your life, you've grown up with your relatives, cousins, and grandmother, literally. You speak a completely different language, and the words "what's up", or "pizza" have absolutely no meaning to you.

Now, imagine that you are six years old, on a plane headed for your new home in America. You know that you are going to go to a state called Maryland, and that you are going to live there; but still, the full effect of that has not hit you yet.

Now imagine that you are in New York, stranded because you had missed a flight transfer that was to take you to Maryland. It is snowing outside, and Christmas is in the air. Everywhere, you see glittery decorations, and people rushing out to get home. The clock approaches midnight, and the store clerks start to pull down the metal doors, and you cannot understand what they are saying. Your stomach is grumbling in hunger, and you're sure that your mother's and sister's are too. Your mother hands you a small carton of milk, and loaf of foreign bread. Starving for any food, you take it, and bite into the bread that a kind store clerk had offered for your mother to buy. As the strange new taste fills your mouth, and you spot an over-sized Raggedy Ann doll perched ontop a store, you feel isolated. And for the first time, you realize that you are in America, and you won't be leaving for a while.

That was how I felt. Standing stranded, cold, tired, and desperately hungry in the middle of a New York airport (I'm not sure which one), I was absolutely lost, even though my mother was with me. My stepping stone was gained when I finally realized that I had really left behind all my friends, relatives, language, and that I wasn't going to go back for a very, very long time.

In conclusion, my childhood snottiness was destroyed the second my sister was born, and my childhood world was destroyed the second I finally understood what "living in America" meant. My pigman was not a person, but simply the course of life.