i had to.
it's unnerving, coming back to such a familiar place with the same faces, changeless, but at the same time, different. time changes things, but other things stay the same. my toothbrush, still in the toothbrush holder in my parent's bathroom, gave me a sense of welcome. always comfortable at home despite the unspoken ambiguity. and how can we expect our parents and elders to look the same when we ourselves have felt age creep up, not that we are old or aging, though aging is something we do since day one, but if we feel the sentiment with each passing year, then of course, our parents will have grown more wrinkles; the lines on their faces, more defined. of course, the children have grown into teenagers, running in circles to find themselves, while we take tangents thinking ourselves is something we've found.
i want to take a walk, just a simple walk and find peace with myself.
i took my grandma to the doctors the other day, and i have never seen someone so afraid of old age, of sickness, of death. i was looking at her while we sat in the waiting room. she has gotten so frail, so skinny, so small. i thought of how she probably held me as a little kid, and how i can now hold her just the same. she said something that made me very glad and very upset at the same time. "they prescribed me less medicine! that means i'm getting better. when people get better, they take less medication. i don't need so many pills." at the bbq, i found my grandma flipping chicken wings and oysters. so i asked if she had eaten yet, took the tongs from her, and told her to go eat first. she says, in chinese of course, "i'm useless. i can't do anything," and walks away. i just didn't want her to get smoke in her eye =/
mindlessness, awake, and unable to sleep. these days infiltrate a certain complexity i've drawn in my mind. the schematics are useless now. i was wrong, am wrong, will always be wrong. my mom has a big mole near her collar bones, by her neck. she says it's a mole of burden. i have one on my back near my right shoulder. she was touching it the other day and said, "it's just like mine... except yours is in the back... you have a bigger burden than me..." and i said, "i'm going to carry this family, mom." everything will be okay.
i tried having a serious conversation with my dad. it's useless. i can't find the words to say it. i can't even translate what i want to say into comprehensive chinese, let alone proper chinese. i can't muster up the guts to tell him he is doing a terrible job. i don't have the audacity to. he's my father. i want to yell at him, criticize him, patronize him, antagonize him; say something to make him understand the amount of work my mom has put into building a home for the family, and how he has stood at the sidelines, he can't even begin to fathom it because he is irresponsible and weak. and i also can't say anything because i want to give him the benefit of the doubt. again, he's my father. i'm just waiting for him to come to terms with everything that he's let slip away, everything that he hasn't done for the family. this is not to say, he's done nothing. he's done something. i just need him to understand that my mother is a lonely person who should be taken care of, but she is too hard working, too stubborn, too independent, and too proud to search for that in a man. especially a man who has laid beside her for more than 20 years.
i will carry this family. i will pull them out of this stress and insanity and bring them to a place where they can relax and reel in big fish.
i just found out, my family is of noble blood. chinese lineage is intriguing, especially if my family is involved. too bad my elders fled china and went into vietnam and got us stuck with these vietnamese last names. but we don't mind.
peace and love,
tt
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