to the Left of Right

I have always had trouble with fundamental truths.

As a child, I could never be sure if the long arm of the clock showed minutes or hours. Somehow, I had made the association that because an hour is "bigger" than a minute, technically, the longer arm ought to show hours. Then ofcourse, I would find out that I was wrong and would make a mental note of it. But the next time around when I was asked to tell the time, I'd go over the same premise and arguments in my head and become horribly muddled again.

Relative directions were another bane to my existence. I had a hard time telling left from right. Ironically, I understood cardinal directions very well. But if I was told to turn left, I would have to stop and think. Even then, much to my embarassment, Iwould end up getting it wrong some times. Then my grandfather taught me a trick.

I remember him and I walking home from my Saturday hobby class. I must have been about seven years old then. Everytime we reached a corner, he would ask me which way to turn and I'd choose. It was our game. What amazed me was that no matter how many wrong turns we took, we were never wrong enough to be lost. We would always make it back home in time for lunch.

In the course of these weekly games, it had become apparent to my grandfather that I fumbled with directions. I'd say left when I meant to go right and vice-versa. He'd correct me politely when I made a mistake but was careful not to make me feel conscious about it. "We are just the same, you know", he said to me one day. "I used to have trouble with these things too when I was your age. But its nothing to worry about". And then after a brief pause, he chuckled "Maybe it runs in the family".

I was secretly delighted because this was something we had in common - something that bound me together with my grandfather. I was also relieved to know that there was hope for me yet. Afterall, for someone who claimed to bungle up directions himself, my grandfather had done pretty well in his life. I explained to him my futile attempts at memorizing left and right using all kinds of mnemonics.

"Well, lets forget all of that. It isn't going to help us. We must think in pictures. That is the best way to remember anything", my grandfather said as he walked ahead and stood at the corner of the sidewalk across from me and a red mailbox.

"Now remember the spatial details of what you see here. Try and click a mental picture of it and tuck it away in your head somewhere. The mailbox is to your right. I am standing to your left. If you want to go right, you walk towards the mailbox. If you want to go left, you come to me. Right - mailbox. Left - me. Thats all you need to know", he said to me and then we continued on our way home.

That was many years ago. A lot has happened in my life since. I have grown up for one. My grandfather has passed on. The house that where I grew up was torn down. Occassionally, I still have trouble telling time on a dial-type analog clock. But when it comes to directions, I have become very clever. If you ask me to turn left, I don't have to think twice - or even once for that matter. The neurons in my head fire away mechanically. A familiar scene flickers in my mind's eye. I see a red mailbox on one side. My grandfather is on the other side, smiling.

And I walk towards him. I just keep walking towards him.

-the girl.