Wildcat

When I was five Mum took me to the zoo. As a birthday present she brought Izzy and I to the zoo, just the two of us. Gem, Thaddeus and Georges stayed home with Grandma and Grandpa, and Dad came along to the zoo.
I loved all the animals; the seals, the polar bears, the lions, the monkeys, the snakes, the wolves, the elephants. But most of all I loved the tigers. They were majestic, wild, free within a cage. Two years later when we moved to London and I read Life Of Pi, I loved tigers even more, and that's when I became even more fascinated with books.
I loved reading, and I loved tigers. When Izzy and I turned eight and we moved to Montreal, I had to learn French and it was awful. Izzy hated it, I hated it, Georges hated it, Gem hated it, and Thaddeus hated it. We all hated French, but eventually it grew on me and I embraced it, and I embraced the culture and most importantly, I embraced the literature.
My father was German, he came to America when he was twelve, and my mother had been born in America. We lived in a small flat in New York City, and after Georges turned three my mother's job was transferred to London, where Gem was born and Thaddeus, Izzy, and I went to primary school.
Growing up the way we did, my siblings and I actually learned three languages; at home we grew up speaking German and English, and when we later moved to Montreal we learned French as a third tongue. Montreal was beautiful, and the best part was the zoos. There were several zoos and zoo-like places in Montreal, and on my ninth birthday Mum and Dad took Izzy and I to the zoo again. It was beautiful. I had grown out of my tiger phase, but when I saw the tigers, the majestic, wild, free within a cage tigers, it all came rushing back to me and I almost cried right there in the middle of the zoo.
Now I have a tattered old copy of Life Of Pi and every day I reread part of it. The first day that I found it I read the entire book twice, and I cried the first time I read it from all the memories.
After a few weeks of reading the novel I grew hungry for new reading material and I asked Reuben if he could find any books for me.
I don't know if there are many left, but I'll look, he told me sincerely. I want you to have more books. I'll try my hardest, but don't get your hopes up, Ruthie, because I might not find any.
I expected the worst and hoped for the best, but sure enough three days later Reuben was waiting at my door earlier than usual with bright eyes and a stack of books in his hands.
I've found you some books, Ruthie, he said excitedly.
I sifted through the stack, glad to see that I hadn't read most of them before and all but one were long novels.
I squealed with delight. Thank you, Reuben! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
He smiled down at me. No problem Ruthie. If you ever need more books let me know, okay, and I'll find some.
I read the eight books he had given me ravenously, tearing through them with incredible speed.
And then my eyes fell on the eighth book.
Inside Out And Back Again by Thanhha Lai.
I first read it when I was four, and Nurse Farrah read it to me in her final days, and I used to read it to Gem.
And so I cried.
And apparently Reuben found me the next morning curled up on top of the covers with the book wrapped tightly against my chest and dried tears sticky on my cheeks.
And I cried.
I cried for Izzy and for Nurse Farrah and for Gem and for Mum and for Dad and for Georges and for Thaddeus and for all the lives lost and for the world and for the tigers; mostly for the tigers.
The majestic, wild, free within a cage tigers.
Me.