Day 209 What I Learned in Kindgergarten

I first met Kris when we were about to start Kindergarten. We had the same great-great-great-great-great grandfather who'd sailed to the Philippines on a Spanish ship centuries ago and this tiny smidge of history thus deemed it relevant for us to refer to each other as "cousins."

Kris  had been in the U.S. longer than I had. She understood the appeal of Mario and Zelda and, seeing as how she was at least a whole six inches taller than me and an epic 3 months older, I thought she was the most sophisticated girl I'd ever met. True enough, in our childhood, my sister and I fought like killer dogs on rabies and I'd looked to Kris at my "best friend." I can look back on this and not be so ashamed at the naivety. I was, after all, five years old.

While my relationship with Kris has taken many twists and turns in the past dozen years, I can always recall that that first year in an American school is when I first "truly" understood the way the world worked for girls and boys. Kris was tall, had pretty straight hair, and a nice peachy complexion that she could easily owe to her dad's more Oriental persuasion.

This was around the time that I came to understand that, as I was not tall, particularly appelaing with my skin issue and generally still minced over grammatical errors because I was still learning the language, I realized that I would not find someone to find me appealing enough to take care of me, therefore, I'd need to take care of myself.

A little depression and emo for a 5-year-old immigrant girl, but it was a thought that sunk in rather deeply for me at that young age and never really quite left...