Before I knew anything else, I knew my mother’s voice. To this day, if I heard her call—even if it was miles away—I would know it was her, and I would know to find my way back to her.
But, I haven’t heard my mother’s voice in years. I haven’t heard any voices at all besides the echo of my own voice, and the noises of other animals that I can’t quite understand, no matter how much I listen. I don’t know how long it’s been since the last time I saw her, but I remember the feeling. I felt the wires all over my skin. I heard the cries of my family mix with my own confused voice. And I remember trying to swim, swim, swim away—but my efforts were in vain. The more I tried, the tighter the wires would get.
I haven’t been able to swim away since. There’s nowhere to swim to—I hit a wall if I try. I used to have the whole ocean to explore. Now all I have is this tank. They taught me to jump out and move around sometimes—they give me food if I do—but otherwise it’s just … this. Every day.
No matter how much I think about it, I don’t understand. I don’t know what happened to my old life. I don’t know what happened to my mother and my family. But I’ll keep listening for her voice. I hope that, one day, I hear it. And I find my way back to her.
