devolving

There was always something a little bit different about you.

You often felt the burning, judgemental eyes of your peers on your back as you walked. You would pass those you knew doing things you could only imagine doing yourself - but that was all you could do: imagine. While you were busy thinking about your next meal, how to keep your fur out of your face, or where the best swimming hole was located, your friends were thinking about their next great idea, what the purpose of their fur was anyway, and ways to find new sources of water for the whole community.

You and all of your friends were monkeys. Apes, I suppose, is the proper terminology. But you had noticed that your friends were not as apelike as you thought they should be. You recognized all of your life that you were a little hairier than your peers, a little more hunched, and a little less clear-minded - you had a lot in common with your parents. Your parents said you were just a late bloomer, but you felt something was wrong.

One day, you walked along your trodden path from your home to your favourite spot by the lake, your knuckles dragging on the dirt behind you. It was the way you were taught to walk by your parents - to rely on your hands for support. You heard soft snickering from those behind you, their arms and backs upright as they gawked at your strange saunter. This was a trip you would take at least once every day, finding a little joy in your routine and a little solace from those around you. Once you got down to the water, you sat on your favourite rock and picked up your favourite stick. You would often use your stick to poke and prod at the fish in the lake for fun. On this day, however, your routine was shaken by a disturbing sight.

Out of the corner of your eye, at the other end of the lake’s shoreline, you saw something you’d never seen before. It was a fish, yes, but not any fish you had ever encountered. This one was different. You watched as the fish struggled and shook as it used four long but stumpy fins under its belly to launch itself onto the shore of the lake. It heaved and pushed against its weight as you watched in amazement, unsure of what to do. Finally, after a minute or so, it had fully emerged from the water, crawling with its stumpy appendages toward you.

You panicked.

You shrieked and hollered in terror as this creature you didn’t understand lurched at you. You took your stick in one hand, using your other hand to create a shield between the two of you, and began swinging wildly. You happened to miss the fish, who quickly flopped on its side to get out of your way, rolling back into the lake. You ran back to civilization, excited but frightened by what you had just seen and intent on letting others know.

In the courtyard, you came across your peers practicing their tool usage as you approached quietly. You told your friends about your encounter and asked if any of them had ever seen anything like this before.

“Oh, I have,” one boy responded snidely. “Is this really your first time seeing the walking fish? I thought it was so interesting when I saw one a few months ago.” You blushed after hearing this response - again you were behind everyone else.

“I saw one too!” chirped a girl. “I didn’t know what it was going to do but I took some notes and I watched it move to another pond! They seem to be developing a new form of travel!” One by one, your peers chimed in with experiences they’d had of strange creatures and patterns of movement and you silently noted that none of them were afraid of what they’d seen like you were. Your peers sought to understand, while your instinct was to run. You had never felt so small.

Once the discussion ended, the children went back to their tools, their games, and their studies, while you sat entirely alone, thinking. You thought and thought about anything and everything. For someone with so much on your mind, you could do so little to prove it. Again you watched others who seemed to be more capable than yourself, more skilled, and more able to show it off. If you were a late bloomer, you wondered when your time to bloom would come. Would it ever come?

Needing some comfort and understanding, you rushed back home to see your parents. You ran into your hut to see your mother mashing bananas in a stone bowl. Not able to think of anything else, you ran into your mother’s arms and began babbling about the creature you’d seen by the lake and the way your peers reacted. Your mother held you close and grunted, communicating to you that she sees things that she doesn’t understand every day - that the world is changing so fast and it can be quite scary. The two of you hardly spoke the same language but you understood each other clearly. You thanked your mother and headed back outside.

Seeing your mother content in her banana mashing, you began to think. How many generations would need to go by until your kin were on par with everyone else? Your friends didn’t look like their parents the way you did. You were scared of the future. Would you recognize your own child? Would they speak a different language like you and your mother? Only time would tell.

As the years passed, you kept your hunch, your walk, your love of bananas, and your difficulty with tools, but it turned out that not many of your peers were thinking as introspectively as you were. That had always been a strength of yours. While your peers were ahead in their critical thinking and researching skills, you always had a mind for emotion. The emotion that you once thought limited you from being analytical was the same emotion that ended up opening so many doors for your self-expression. You were actually quite ahead in that regard; communication was the problem. Your ability to communicate your thoughts deepened with time, even if you were still behind on some other parts of life. Your peers began to listen to you, they respect you. You finally found some sense of belonging.

You saw many of your peers continuing their stories through their children. You remembered being afraid of what the future would hold for your offspring. Again you waited, bided your time, and stuck to what you knew you were good at. Knowing that this was what you really wanted, and once the situation was right, you put your fears aside and welcomed a child into the world.

She was someone you knew. Someone a little less furry than yourself, with a little better posture, and a very fast learner.

You are so excited for her life to begin.