On parent-child interactions, translated…
The sun light started moving into the room, in a speed that couldn’t be detected, I sat on the chair, watching the light change, imagined the windows that were cut through by light were golden Jello pieces that fell all over the floors, and I’d taken that wooden sword I’d bought from the grocery shop, and started stabbing at the pieces, because I was bored. But actually, I was waiting, waiting for my father to holler out, in this sunny afternoon, to embark, on an adventure on our bicycles, through the cities, to begin our own little adventure.
Every time when there’s almost no business at the noodle shop, my father would often summon me who was still elementary age, to find an unfamiliar feeling, inside this familiar city which I grew up—passing through the abandoned houses, imagined that the ghosts were inside, and, even IF it’s the light of day and warm outside, I’d still sometimes, started shivering, because of my own imaginations, as I said that Buddhist prayer silently; or, we would, ride alongside the river edges, allowing the sun to bake my skin, and, if I was wearing pants, I’d stuck my feet into the grasses, and so, the dart weeds could come along on this journey with me.
And there was once, that I’d passed through that old house, perhaps, I was intrusive, into the dreams of two to three old stray dogs, the very next second, they all hounded on us, ran after us, chased us, scaring us like hell, and all I could do, was scream like crazy on the back of my father’s bicycle. My father started shouting out at those dogs, and stuck out one leg, to look like he was kicking them, and I’d feared, that the dogs may bite onto my father’s leg, but maybe, we’d rode away from their territories, the dogs turned back all of a sudden, and faded out from our field of vision.
I was still shocked, didn’t know what to do, tears seemed to about to fall, my father tried to calm me, and had even thought of teaching me the simple Buddhist prayers, wanted to use the help from the gods, to help me chase the fears in my heart away, but I was still so scared to make even a sound, fearing that in the shadows of the trees, there hid a few more vicious dogs, hearing my shouts, and thought us to be intruders, and start chasing us again.
My father saw that is “ritualistic healing methods” didn’t work, he’d fallen silent too, waited until he’d rode us both away from the “scene of the crimes”, he’d started stating, “Big Feet are Big, Walking in Big Steps! Small Feet are Small, Walking in Smaller Steps!” I was attracted by the rhyming, and begged for him to recite it again, as I’d heard it, it felt that it sounded wonderful, and so, I’d followed along in reciting, and, it’d sounded better and better, and I’d loved it more and more, and so, the two of us started in the loudness competition in reciting the verses, and, we couldn’t pay any heed of the passersby’s gazes.
And, what’s magical was, the unsettlement in my heart, with this act of reciting, dissipated.
And, every time in the future, on my bicycle riding trips out, I’d always recited this small verse before I headed out, partially, it was for fun, partially, it was to give me the blessings of a safe journey and, this verse that my father had created to soothe me when I was younger became the background music to my childhood memories.
So, this, was a memory from your childhood years, you were so scared, and your father quickly came up with a way to calm you down, to make you feel safe again, and, you’d held on to that, and that still just shows, how deeply we are all, affected by our childhood experiences…