As soon as I stepped off the subway, I knew there was no way I was going to make it to my train. I ran through the stiff crowd of staring faces to get my ticket, but once I got to the counter I was overtaken by five people all shouting in Mandarin that they needed their tickets first because they too, were going to be late. In a last ditch effort, I sprinted towards the security guard to beg to be let through in my best broken Chinese. After my face was thoroughly sopping wet with tears and snot, he finally let me through out of pity. I ran as fast as I could to the track number, only to have the gate close right in front of me.
Defeated, I went to a quiet corner of the station where I could do my best to hide and cry all my frustrations out. I realized I would have to buy another ticket—with the small amount of money I had left—for the next train to Shanghai. I did my best to compose myself and work my way back towards the ticket counters. By the time I received my new ticket and got to Shanghai, I was already worn out and weary, but stubbornly hopeful and positive. Even though I had already experienced enough panic attacks for a lifetime within an hour timespan, I found that I could not stop smiling since it was the last day I would be with my host family in this foreign city. I decided that I would commemorate it by getting a tattoo.
A lot of thought went into what design I would get, since it would be my very first tattoo. I wanted it to be something special (obviously), but also something silly and unique that only I would understand. The six months I spent in China were during the Year of the Monkey so I decided to get a small black outline of a peeled banana on my left leg. I had one of my close friends from back home draw it for me to make it even more personal. When I went into the tattoo shop, I had the unpleasant experience of being by myself with an assistant who spoke some English and had to translate everything to the artist, who only spoke Chinese. Even though the pain was equivalent to someone shoveling out tiny sections of my skin with a razor, it was over in under five minutes. I was so relieved to get out of the shop and continue exploring the rest of Shanghai with my plastic wrap bandage and my banana.
After coming back from China, I decided that getting a tattoo at the end of every summer would become my new tradition. A year later, after spending my summer living with my best friend, Charles, in Burlington, Vermont, I decided that the ultimate symbol of that summer was a maple leaf. Forever on my upper right arm would be an ode to the Vermont state tree. Burlington was unlike any place I had lived before, and it was my first experience being able to do what I wanted whenever I wanted. The layout of the small city was convenient for people to walk, bike, or bus anywhere and I connected with that freedom on a deep personal level. At any given moment I had the ability to walk downtown and sit on a bench outside a myriad of little shops, or I could stroll down the waterfront bike path and feel completely immersed in nature. I was lucky enough to have been automatically initiated into Charles’ childhood friend group. Not only was I instantly accepted, but we all had an unbelievable time together as they helped to initiate me to their hometown.
Every new place I moved to growing up, I instantly rebelled against their mainstream culture, but I found that it was impossible for me to do that in Burlington. As I started becoming a regular Creemee consumer, it was a no-brainer for me to proudly embrace my love for the city and the memories I had in it by branding myself with a maple leaf. The tattoo artist that imprinted my body with this symbolic plant was one of the new friends I had made in Burlington that summer, which made it all the more reminiscent of my time there. Charles, and my other best friend, Gabby, both accompanied me to the shop. Before I got the tattoo, I had to excuse myself to cry and think over the juxtaposition of getting a tattoo by a friend, surrounded by more good friends, in such a comfortable setting opposed to just a year before when I was in a strange foreign country and feeling so alone.
When it came time to make plans for next summer, I was extremely conflicted and felt I had no options. To say that a lot had changed in that year was an understatement, I had survived my first relationship and heartbreak. I decided to take the time, after heavy deliberation, to attend group therapy while living with my friend’s family for the first month of summer. By the time I had finished that experience, my aunt in California had invited me to spend the next two months living with her. Magically, everything came together and I was lucky to have the opportunity to travel with my aunt and uncle to L.A., Yosemite, Sacramento, and San Diego. In San Diego, I met up with my biological father—with whom my relationship was quite new—and went back with him to Arizona. We planned a trip to visit the Grand Canyon, where I lived with him when I was a child. It was here that I came up with my third tattoo that would signify what that summer meant to me.
Standing at the edge of the majestic canyon gave me chills; I thought of how much I’ve changed since my last time being in that spot. Nothing had phased the canyon, it remained as glorious as ever. In the desert watchtower at the northern rim, the walls were covered with Native American artwork. One image that stood out to me was a deer that had been shot with an arrow; it resonated with me because I related to the feeling of being chased and hunted. Through all the pain and heartache I experienced, I couldn’t help but keep that wounded animal part of me to remind myself of how strong I am.
These permanent marks on my body—all representing happy moments and periods of my life—also come with somber reminders of the past. Living in China was tremendously rough, but it shaped who I am and taught me many life lessons early on. My seemingly innocent banana carries around a deeper meaning only I understand. My maple leaf is a constant reminder of a time and place I dearly miss, the beginning of my first serious relationship timed up to the day I received the tattoo, and now that we have separated and no longer talk, it adds a heavy burden of heartache to the light leaf. The deer impaled with an arrow represents my struggle with running away from my past and trying to reconnect with my biological father, while also bringing back happy memories of the most beautiful sight on Earth, the Grand Canyon. People often ask if I would regret my tattoos once I’m older. They are a daily reminder of my past and bring back overwhelming emotions, but I don’t think I could ever regret them since they embody the story of all of my past bodies.