People often associate scientists with the word evil, but who could blame them? There are evil scientists in books, in movies, in haunted houses, and in scary stories; they’re known to operate animals and people, test unknown drugs on them, cut them open, put them together, amputate a limb here, maybe add another there....

I, however, never thought of them as evil. My mother is a scientist herself and she is the most caring, loving, kind, and compassionate person I had ever known. Who was I kidding? I was just a carefree, sometimes careless, little 10 year-old who loved to play outside and didn’t know much about anything.

I am now 20, and thinking back to when I was still that child ten years ago, I can’t help but scold myself for just how dumb and clueless I was to ever think that the woman who gave birth to me, the person who raised me, the one whom I called mother, and the scientist whom I so admired could possibly be the kindest person in the world.

‘You were only 10’ I tell myself again and again, trying to convince myself that I only thought of her as an amazing role model because I was just a kid and it was natural for kids to look up to their parents, famous figures, or even superheroes. Kids don’t know much anyway, right? I mean, I certainly didn’t much as a kid so...

That’s no excuse though. I’m still mad at myself for not questioning her back then. For not asking why my best friend suddenly ‘moved away’ on my 10th birthday due to his father’s job, when something I did know was that his father was working perfectly fine as an art teacher in my elementary school.

Was it because people who study art and have an art related career have it harder? That was probably the only question related to my best friend’s move that I ever asked my mother, and of course she said “Yes darling, it’s hard to find a job if you study art, so promise me you’ll study something like science or math when you grow up?” I didn’t give her a reply. Even though I thought she’d get mad, she didn’t, and it was probably only because I was sobbing and looking like a total mess.

I didn’t want to promise her. Even the dumb me as a 10 year-old knew that that was total bull. I like art. I love it. And her telling me not to study art when I grow up is exactly why I chose to study art when I graduated from high school.

But really, why didn’t I ask her more questions about my best friend moving away? Aren’t kids supposed to be curious and ask about anything and everything? Or was I so upset that nothing mattered anymore? Or maybe even being the dumb child I was, I wasn’t that dumb to think he really moved away because of his father’s job. I wasn’t that dumb to believe her words. I wasn’t that dumb to think it was normal for your best friend to move away without giving you a proper explanation and a proper goodbye. I wasn’t that dumb.

So the day I turned 20, I received a phone call from my mother, asking me to visit her and have dinner with her since I’ve been living by myself and haven’t gone back to our old house in a while. So I did.

It’s been two weeks since I turned 20 and two weeks since I last visited my mother and our old house. I honestly don’t know if I regret visiting her, finding out things I probably shouldn’t have. It was an accident though. I was merely walking around and looking through some of the rooms while remembering the memories I made in this house, that was all. Who knew I’d accidentally let a bar of soap slip to the bathroom floor when I was washing my hands and fall in, or better said fall through, the bathtub trying to pick up the soap.

Of course I didn’t let my mother know anything that happened after that, and I hope she wouldn't find out what happened either. I left late that night and don’t plan to go back ever again.

For the 20 years I've been living, I have regretted and still regret lots of things. But one thing I definitely don’t regret is visiting my old house on my 20th birthday because that day, I finally found my best friend, alive...but barely breathing.  

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(2014.04.16)