Popcorn
After almost a decade, I once again stepped foot in my hometown’s annual fair. It was almost 10 years ago since I had to permanently move in with my parents in a country that considers them immigrants. From my house, the small fair was just a few minutes away. The darkness from the town’s lack of streetlights emphasized the glaring lights of the carousel and game booths.
As I step closer, the scent that would bring back so many memories of my childhood rushed through my nose, and there it was — buttered popcorn. Popcorn in other countries is typically a movie snack. It’s known by many that way. However, in my country where everything expensive and we had to rely on easily accessible forms of treats, popcorn is the most crucial snack in any events, especially at fairs.
When I was about 8 years old, I was living with my siblings in our home country, looked after by our close relatives. One aunt lived with us, so she was our main caretaker or guardian. Our parents had to stay in another country to make money, but being away from them was what was normal. We were born in that country but was sent back to be taken care of by our aunts and uncles after a year or two from when we were born. So, we weren't familiar with our parents, nor did we have a close relationship. At that time, there wasn't also social media that would easily make it possible for us to connect in an instant. International phone calls were also expensive, so we only talked to them once or twice per month.
My memory of popcorn had nothing to do with my parents as it only involved my aunt, our guardian.
I was 8 years old when I learned about the concept of sex and cheating. I remember it so well. I was playing with the dollhouse that I got for Christmas, playing alone as the house seemed emptier than usual. However, I didn't really think much of it since I thought everyone was at the fair. Suddenly, a man yelling in anger came in with my aunt, who was at this time bawling.
“IS IT TRUE?”, he asked her. “IS IT TRUE?”, again but this time louder. It was my aunt’s boyfriend (at the time). He heard a rumour circulating that my aunt slept with another man at a work outing. Apparently, after drinking and karaoke, she and the other guy sneaked away from the group and kissed. They kissed, then had sex.
My aunt admitted to everything and begged for forgiveness. Her boyfriend was a patient man who gave his world to her, but this time she crossed that border that allowed him to believe her — his trust. Finally, the man who was there beside her, treated her like a princess was not rejecting her. I watched from the bedroom and saw him ran his hand across her face, making her fall in pain. Then, he slammed the door and left. That was the last time I ever saw him. Wanna know something else? When they broke up, I lost the only man who has ever shown me what a loving father is supposed to be (but that’s a story for another day).
Minutes later, my other aunt (her sister) came to console her sister and checked on me. She brought a bog of popcorn from the fair as she tried to see how I was doing. I still remember the smell. It was my favourite snack, well, until that day because at that time I couldn’t even gather the strength to swallow a piece properly.
That’s why every time I come back when my dates fall on the fair’s dates and smell popcorn, there’s only one part of childhood I remember.
