The Creature

My bones creak in the early morning like skeletons in the grave; I am still young but in the cold October morning when the rays of the sun have not yet melted the fog in my thoughts, it's easy to feel ancient.

Ancient.

My family is old, I know that much. But we are new to this land, this earth. Here on the cold soils of Washington, the water feels unfriendly and the mountains aloof. My family is from where sand beats drums in the desert and the coffee's so dark your blood curdles.

I know not my place in this land, only that I must fit in. And it is so difficult, to fit in. They have so many strange beliefs, weird customs. Especially around this time of year.

This year I bought a costume. My name today is no longer Safi, it is Frankenstein, a word my mouth shapes with difficulty. I speak English well but this word is German and my tongue longs to slip back into the staccato beats of its native speech.

It is Halloween, and I am dressed. And I feel at peace, for now on the streets, I get no strange looks. It is like they say, Halloween is the one day a year a monster gets to feel at home.

I do not think I am a monster, nor do I think my family is. But if that is the name they will give us, we will bear it. We are strong, my family, my people. And today I walk the streets in costume, yes, but still as proud as always. And for once I am at peace and the act of balancing two cultures doesn't seem impossible.