Cion Choi
If it wasn ’ t Christmas
Cion Choi
The lamp shivers .
Dim light from a small antique lamp dances from side to side , shimmying with the swirling wind from a crack on the window . Grey , white , and black . I am dumb . The cement scorches my feet ; they hurt . Air feels heavy . My legs untangle , and blood rushes to my toes — a tingling sensation as my senses come alive . My head feels turgid and dense , as if brain is bloating out of my skull , and it fills me with nothing but very abstract thoughts . A strange peppermint taste seals my mouth , and my nose feels deserted — so dry it feels like it ’ s on fire . My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness as I hear fingernails scraping a rough surface .
For a moment I can ’ t remember anything . The world spins and I can ’ t grasp on which way round the floor and ceiling are . The one I am lying down on : this must be the floor , I think . In the midst of the unconsciousness — the kaleidoscope — I fall backwards and thump my head on the ground . I thought I was on the floor ? I stop questioning . And that ’ s when I remember ,
I was stolen .
It all comes back like a stroke . A lightning flashes back to carols , balloons , laughter , silence , and pain . Lots of pain .
I look around and I ’ m in an empty room : grey floor , grey walls , white lamp , black curtain . Behind the curtains I can make out a small window up high . I can hear a tree grating against the coarse cement windowsill . But otherwise , Silence .
No doors . No furniture — only a small lamp by my side . Why ? Why am I here ? Where am I ? Who brought me here ? My memory is back but now I ’ m flooded with more questions . No good .
I try to think chronologically . This morning we were all very busy . Why ? Oh yes , we were going to Disneyland for Christmas . I remember Jem talking about Christmas , Disneyland , and Christmas and Disneyland , non-stop throughout the six-hour-ride from San Francisco to California . We got off , I had a balloon in my hand — a red one . Then I remember sucking on something sweet , a lolli probably . I see mom trying to hold Jem by his hand , but eventually failing to keep him calm . He is way too excited . Dad is walking with at least ten shopping bags in his hand , yet he ’ s gleaming at the sight of roller coasters . Dad and Jem run together to the back of the long queue . They are both smiling crazily . This is truly a rare occasion . I remember fireworks , laughing , Jem cracking up , dance , music , and people . Many , many people . They all look happy .
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Then , I hear myself telling mom that I have to go to the toilet . Mom nods and says something to me that I don ’ t remember . Her brunette hair disap-