Imperium

Act One: The Unforgotten Woods

The trees whistled with the rhythm of my footsteps. To me, the woods had always been welcoming. But as I dashed across the damp and unkempt soil, I could not help but feel the discrepancy in my lungs. With every breath, it burned like hot ambers. Regardless, I sped up; I could feel my feet flying past the velvet earth beneath as the trees became nothing but a blur.

Eventually, I felt the exhaustion tighten its grip on my throat. My legs decided to settle with a jog as I took the opportunity to catch my breath. My lungs devoured the refreshing evening air as the mellow, soft summer breeze whispered songs of jubilance. The slight stir of the trees seemed to dance along to the cadence.

Though it was a bright full moon tonight, the dense canopy of branches above refracted the illumination into thin silver threads that pierced the frigid flesh of the earth below. As I approached the lake, I could hear the gentle swooshing of the waves and smell the refreshing scents of the outback. The treeline rescinded into the background while the soil beneath my feet gradually turned into sand.

A slender girl sat on a wooden bench. She was wearing an elegant white dress with a delicately embodied rose pattern, accompanied by a pair of runners, and a crown made of daisies sat on top of her neatly groomed hair. In her laps was Simba, a large Ginger cat. We did not know what his real name was or who his owner was. We noticed him one day hiding in the bushes. Over time, he started to trust us as I would occasionally bring him milk or other cat treats.

“You are early today!” I prompted finally.

She turned towards me and gave me a faint smile but said nothing. She pursed her lips together while a faint frown line appeared on her forehead. Her uneasiness could not be more apparent, but her eyes of dark pearl, which shined a light of its own in the night; tonight, reflected only sadness.

She turned her head back towards the lake as if to enjoy the view. It was a beautiful night indeed. The lake was an endless plane of perpetual reflections; watery black mirrors housed a distant glowing star. The sky was a deep ocean blue that encompassed accents of scarlet red and hues of the cardinal. It was a breathtaking view that would make jaws drop.

During the winter months, the lake would become frozen, allowing us to skate on it. We never dared to venture far in fear of the ice cracking and stranding us. We would often imagine what kind of creature lurked beneath the water. She would envision a harmonious serenade of Sirens. While I, on the other hand, had more grotesque creatures in mind.

We would often engage in small talk, telling each other stories of what happened at school. We went to the same school. It was a small school housing several hundred students. We pretended not to know each other at school because it was the norm; for the boys to hang out with other boys and vice versa. It was by pure chance that we even became close friends. Her family moved to the house across from mine a couple of months after I moved here. And on several occasions, we gathered for dinner or went to local community events together. But it was this very place that brought us close. We shared an agnate fondness for nature. The forest was an endless playground for us that we adventured relentlessly over the years.

Tonight, however, there was no small talk to be had or casual walks in the wood. Instead, we sat in agonizing silence because we both knew what was to come, and we were far from prepared to face the cold hard reality.

Act Two: My Life

That night would be the last time I’d ever see her. I could not bring myself to say goodbye the next morning. Instead, I stayed in bed and watched the clock tick away. I did not leave the house for an entire week. To my mind, my world got turned upside down. Back then, I did not know how to process change. But this was not the first time I experienced such things; it was far from the last.

When I was six, my father relinquished his career in pursuit of a better future for me. He resigned from a reputable, good-paying job and made up his mind to leave the country with me and my mother. I have come to appreciate his decision over time. But then, it felt like abandoning everything I have known to chase a distant dream. In retrospect, I was half-right.

Growing up, the only consistency I have come to know was that my life was inconsistent. It was challenging enough to have to learn a new language from scratch. Having to move every couple of years was a different level of hard. It meant I could not have any close friends, get too attached to a place, or develop any meaningful ties with the community.

For most of my childhood, my father had to switch between jobs, and my mother had to start working too to support the family. So, for the most part, my juvenile year was either spent at school or daycares.

When we first arrived, we moved into a single-unit home situated in the northern suburbs. The house was engulfed in rich green forestry and a large glacial lake. But towards the end of primary school years, we moved into a modest two-bedroom apartment accompanied by all the complimentary city perks of angry Sunday drivers, overcrowded supermarkets, and endless buzz.

While I could continue to talk about all the schools I have switched to or the numerous place I have been to but could not remember the names of. What truly resonated with me as a sense of home throughout my youth lies elsewhere.

My limited social interaction meant that I have never developed a sense of belonging regardless of where I was. However, it also meant I had time to invest in other areas.

During the day, I got frequently lost in reverie. I would imagine elaborate sceneries and become completely detached from reality. It was also around this time that I gained a fondness for painting. On numerous occasions, I would attempt to bring my imagination to life. However, I could never illustrate the intricate details the way I wanted.

Nevertheless, my imagination remained with me throughout the years. It was the one thing that I felt belonged to me. It allowed me to visualize the places of my creation. A place where I have complete control; my imperium.

When life decides to throw change your way, the only constant you can find is yourself. For me, it was channeling my creativity. While sometimes I would imagine elaborate floating cities in the sky, Sakura petals falling like snow; other times would be as simple as an endless ocean overlooked by a sunset on the horizon.

What mattered to me most was how the vivid depictions that live inside my head empower me to continue to have a positive outlook on life. With it, I can call wherever I go home. My home was beyond the physical embodiment of a place. It is the memories and experiences that I bring with me that are consequential.

Many years later, I would once again visit the lake that was the quintessential memory of my childhood. I thought of the poem "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost. While nothing good lasts forever, familiarity must become a thing past for a new chapter to begin.