The Summer I'll never forget

by Tatiana Ellis (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

A leap into the unknown United Kingdom

I sat there waiting, intermittently looking up, hoping someone would catch my eye. Looking around me, I seemed to be the only person there, maybe I should have been afraid but I thought I could get used to the quiet without anyone asking me to do something for them for a change. Admittedly, my attention was pre-dominantly focused on finger-pinching the crease in my crisp, white pantsuit from C&A. Mum had bought it for me in the sale after I ‘mentioned’ that it looked like one of the outfits Five Star wore. How I loved that woman right now! Finally, appearing like a mirage asking me to trust her was the flight attendant. Holding my hand she led me out of Special Assistance and into the chaos. I felt safe. Her poise was effortless; she glided us through like a soldier trained in landmine safety. It was 1988 and I was busting out of my pre-pubescent body into 13 year old hips, baby hairs shining and fresh-to-death shell-toe trainers softly thudding against the polished floors as I walked. Only once did we break hands when the obligatory ‘White Rabbit’ (from Alice in Wonderland) ran through trying to beat his plane’s ‘Last Call’. You always get that person that never leaves enough time to make their flight. I did not lose her though, apart from the fact she waited I could not miss that elaborate hair-do of a mane framing her perfectly beat face. I took my seat with nonchalance belying the butterflies in my belly. Closing my eyes, I snapped my safety belt shut, I felt ready to embark upon my next chapter. Right then I knew was perched on the precipice of Adulthood, glaring into the face of independence and treading unchartered waters. I was travelling without my mother for the very first time in my life and it felt great. All I could think of was how I was rockin’ this ‘Unaccompanied Minor’ thing like a boss. I was soaring like the plane on my way to new heights, I could feel it. This is my coming of age story. The six weeks lay ahead like the anticipation of your first kiss, knowing you want to experience it but were you really ready to handle what comes after. That summer was intense with heat; sweat was dripping as you got out of the shower like you were taking it in your clothes. I paid closer attention to my personal hygiene and went through my holiday wardrobe within days of arriving. The Southern heat of Atlanta and cute boys had me dressing less but would have my granddad’s wife Ms Lynn pulling me up on how a young lady should behave, bringing me back to that boundary line quicker than the sun hitting my back when I stepped off the porch step. There were many firsts that summer and although loving being black was not one of them, it was my first time learning about African Culture on such a spiritual level. Art is in my blood and Creativity is the epicentre of my being so when re-connecting with my ancestors was integrated, I was firing on all four cylinders. It gave me life; the rhythm of the drums spoke to me in a dialect I could understand, like a direct line from the Motherland. With an air of familiarity, I stomped the gumboot dance and emitted sounds of the melodious chants from South Africa and painted murals against the walls of solidarity. It was like two worlds had collided with me stepping out of my hut and onto a busy street. I made new friends, tried different foods, attended a family reunion in Toledo, Ohio, discovered the wonderful world of Al B Sure and kissed a boy - all in one summer! This was the best time of my life, EVER. This was living.