Grade School

2009, November 29

I moved to United States when I was eleven years old. It was here in Arizona, in this school where I learned to speak English and my journey of becoming Americanized began in earnest.

More than fifteen years later I had an opportunity to return to Arizona and rekindle memories of my late childhood. It was Sunday afternoon, the school was entirely empty, further collaborating in creating a surreal mixture of time travel and nostalgia for memories fleeting towards the horizon of one’s now distant recollections.

I remember tripping and falling on my face over a young lady during a game of tag and chipping one of my front teeth. Her name was Marissa.

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