Chapter Thirty-One

There is an owl that hangs out in my yard. At first, he scared me. I thought he’d eat Sox. But when he looks at me with his wise yellow eyes, I feel like we’re old friends. The other morning, I smiled at him. He raised his face to the sun and then danced across a branch as though celebrating a new beginning.

Two weeks ago, I graduated with distinction from UBC. I completed my BA with a major in political science. Mr. Tanji — I still don’t call him Ali — funded most of my education. I didn’t win the essay contest, but I’ve never felt bad about losing because I got to speak my truth. I took a risk, and, while it didn’t win me a prize, it won me a voice that I’d never heard before and haven’t lost since. Besides, my story couldn’t have been told in a few hundred words. It needed time and space. It needed courage and conviction and the fortitude to stay focused while that broken little girl I’d buried so long ago screamed and cried and fought her way out of the grave where I’d kept her hidden.

I used to be afraid to see her. I thought she’d be angry and full of hate. But when she finally rose, she came in quietly, like a gentle mist in the shadow of my reflection. I smiled at her pretty face. I welcomed that young girl who used to pose and play and mimic supermodels in the mirror. And as I embraced that part of me, I felt my wings rise and knew that beneath the dome of my battered wings, I’d be okay.

The dark memories. The sad truth of my youth. My one regret was never finding Al after he’d saved my life. We’d skipped the grad party to go look for him. We looked everywhere. The shelter. The street. Even the hospitals. But we couldn’t find him, and we were getting dangerously close to missing our bus. “We’ll come back for him, Chanie,” Mr. Tanji had said, speeding toward the Greyhound station. “I’ll watch for him.”

Al passed away a few months after he saved my life. Mr. Lavoy called to tell us. He said that the shelter director, Bruce, had been with Al in his last moments and had kept Dingo for me. Dingo now sits on top of my first copy of Les Misérables in my living room. He watches over me like he did when I was in the hospital. Ginger and I planted flowers and a memorial tree in the yard, and we always include Al when we pray together.

I’m not completely healed, but I’m healing every day. I’m better. And every day, I try harder. I still dream of Blue from time to time. When I see him in my dreams, he never looks me in the eye. He waves to me to come closer, but I never do because I’m still afraid of him. With every dream, he is fading. Soon, he will fade away forever.

Last weekend, Mr. Lavoy called. “Chanie, you know what I’d really love?”

“What’s that?”

“I’d love for you to speak to my class this year.”

“What would you like me to talk about?”

“Tell them about your biggest life-changing moments.”

What would I tell them? There were so many miracles I couldn’t see at the time they were happening. It’s all so beautiful, this life. I don’t remember all the bad because the magic keeps me awestruck now that I can see it from somewhere safe. It’s like reaching a summit. That’s when you can see all the splendour. Not so much when you’re climbing because that’s when you have to fight. But the miracles are always there, climbing next to you. They’re dancing for you and waiting to dance with you.