The Name That Wasn't Mine

Chapter 5, Somewhere to Land, is a deeply moving exploration of what it means to feel safe for the first time—and how complicated that safety can be. In this chapter, the narrator steps into a new home, a place that should feel comforting, but instead sparks a confusing mix of fear, gratitude, and longing.

One of the most striking aspects of this chapter is how trauma manifests in the body. The narrator’s instinctive duck when their uncle reaches out is a haunting reminder that past fear doesn’t disappear overnight. Our bodies often carry memories that our minds have not yet processed, and rebuilding trust can be a slow, careful journey. The uncle’s gentle, patient response—just a single word, “No”—illustrates the profound power of presence and consistency over force or explanation.

The chapter also explores the complicated dynamics of family. Even in a safe home with caring guardians, the narrator and their siblings feel like outsiders. The staggered dinners—where the Reyes kids eat first, and the narrator’s family waits—become a metaphor for the subtle ways people can feel second-best, even when their basic needs are met. It’s a reminder that love and care aren’t always enough to erase the lingering effects of exclusion and marginalization. Yet, within these small, divided moments, the narrator finds solace in sibling bonds—a quiet testament to resilience and loyalty.

Starting school introduces another layer of challenge. Never having attended school before, the narrator faces a world that is both exciting and intimidating. They craft a protective lie about their parents, highlighting how trauma often forces children to create strategies for survival in social spaces. And when cruelty comes—a classmate calling them an orphan—the instinctual, violent reaction that follows is less about aggression and more about self-preservation, showing how deeply past experiences can shape present behavior.

One of the most important moments in this chapter comes with the uncle’s response to this incident. Rather than punishing harshly, he combines guidance with compassion, showing the narrator that being hurting doesn’t mean being bad. It’s a subtle but powerful lesson: healing doesn’t come from punishment—it comes from understanding, patience, and being seen.

Chapter 5 is a testament to the complexity of growing up with trauma, adjusting to safety, and learning to navigate spaces that feel both welcoming and foreign. It reminds us that resilience isn’t about instant transformation—it’s about small, persistent steps toward trust, connection, and belonging. Even in divided dinners and awkward school introductions, the narrator finds proof that they matter, and that proof becomes the foundation for hope.

Key Takeaways:

• Trauma can live in the body long after danger has passed.
• Safety and love don’t erase feelings of exclusion or resentment immediately.
• Compassionate guidance matters more than harsh punishment.
• Resilience is built in the small moments of connection and care.

In the end, Somewhere to Land teaches us that finding a place to belong is not always about being first—it’s about being seen, being safe, and discovering that even in small, imperfect ways, we can matter.

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