It depends on two words: It depends

Where Did You Come From / How Did You Arrive? *

The answer is being held under deep water.

I can make out letters. I can make out words. But I can’t understand how they all fit together to make meaning. Every time I reach into the water to grab the words and bring them up to the surface, they disappear. After a while, I assume this is a mirage, and so I abandon hope of ever reaching them. I walk away.

And this is when meaning rises to the surface, unbidden.

It depends on two words: It depends.

From the country of my birth.
From the country of my parent’s birth (which is not the country of my birth).
From the east coast of the country that I live in (which is not the country of my birth or the country of my parent’s birth).
From the sea and the sand.
From the sun.
From between my mother’s legs.
(And possibly?) From love.

Reluctantly.
By birth canal.
By car.
Tentatively.
By plane.

By rickshaw.

God knows how I got here.

I arrived by Love.

Is the answer to every question that I will ever be asked Love?

 

* This question comes from Bhanu Kapil’s book The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers (Kelsey St. Press, 2001) The book is structured around the responses to twelve questions. Bhanu encouraged me to give responding a try. And so I am.