Murder of the butterflies

by Karina V. (Latvia)

A leap into the unknown USA

A heat wave overtook my body as I first stepped foot outside, it was a hot lighting strike. The Sun was mighty as ever. I had known stinging cold and harsh windburn on my skin. But never have I felt the heat of a steaming hot Finnish sauna while being outdoors. Perhaps, the choice of my outfit was to blame. Perhaps, I was just too close to the Sun. I found myself on a highway of a gritty desert road leading into the Sacramento mountains. I was still a kid, 16 years old, with no prior experience of going abroad. The butterflies in my stomach at this point were having a full-on rager, I could not contain myself. I felt all the emotions at once, meanwhile I felt nothing but emptiness. My mother was on the other side of the world, I had left behind everything I knew and loved just to see the land where dreams come true. Have I been selfish to do so? But here I was, in the Land of Enchantment starstruck by enormous mountains, dry tumbleweed and prickly cactuses. I was a foreigner in the back of a car biting my lip in excitement, fear and with no idea where this road will take me. The taste of blood from my bitten lip brought back times of my mischievous childhood at my grandma’s house in the countryside. I was a hippy Tarzan running barefoot, jumping from one tree to another and making flower crowns from the wildflowers I found in the nearby meadows. The jetlag got the best of me as I snoozed off in the back of a stranger’s car. Was there a chance I would get kidnapped? Surely. But I was frazzled. Before I could contemplate, I was already dozing off. My eyes startled open as we were approaching my new home. It finally hit me. I cried myself to sleep that night. I felt like a kid who had lost its mom in the biggest grocery store. Except the store was a maze and my mom was not even in the store. Life back home had to be faded away to fully immerse into this unknown world. The little kid that my mother saw last is never coming back. That kid you once knew, the kid you dropped off at the airport is slowly fading away, like the desert wind blowing the sand across the red valley. My tongue was in flames, the taste of New Mexican chile, jalapenos, salsa was irritating my tongue for months. See, I was used to plain food with nothing but some salt, garlic and dill. I took a spicy bite and a stream of tears went rolling down my cheeks. “It’s a part of adjusting”, I whispered to myself as I took another bite. The spice had killed off the butterflies in my stomach. They were gone with no sign of life. The Sun was my biggest enemy. She took pride in burning my pale skin like I burn my daily morning toast. Every morning I was awakened by the smell of devil’s lettuce and a loud holler from the elderly man downstairs: “Good morning, Vietnam!”, he yelled with joy. The combination of a burnt skunky, bitter aroma astounded my nostrils every morning as I was heading downstairs to sip my black breakfast tea which consistently tasted like sugary water. Comfort zone did not exist in this world. Fitting in and adopting was on my daily schedule. I was living on an edge, constantly expecting what life throws at me. I hate to admit it, but I had never felt more alive in my life. The hot desert sun burning my skin, the spicy cuisine irritating my mouth, the smell of pinecones and skunky devil’s lettuce, the blood gushing from my lip and the butterflies in my stomach. It is a constant reminder of the life that flows through my veins. It’s a reminder of the spark that’s beating in my chest and the love of adventure that is seen in my eyes. When you feel the butterflies dancing in your gut, just know – they are telling you to leap.