If the world is weaved with the longitudes and the latitudes, then, these two opposites, may been seen, as lies and truths, perhaps.
My mother warned me, don’t lie. Her sharpened looks, pierced through my pupils, and ended, in the depth of my brains. I think, perhaps, when I’d lied in my childhood years, my facial expressions were probably very rigid, and, maybe, I have a different tone of voice too? Otherwise, how would my mother know, that I’d snuck out? On the half days we had in elementary school, as a latchkey kid, I just, couldn’t stay put, on the afternoons when my parents are away at work, I’d often, taken my allowances, and gone to the theatres in our community, or the supermarkets, or even, the stationery shops—because of considerations of safety, this, was not allowed of me. Still recalled how one afternoon, it was pouring, my mother entered the house, without having said a word to me, she’d known, that I’d skipped out, and, I got grilled so hard, that I was shocked, later on, I’d found out, that it was, my shoes, stepping on the mud, and, the muddy water splashed onto the back of my pant legs that gave me away, and it’d all become, HARD evidence.
Being complete is very difficult, as there’s truth in the lies, and lies, in the truths, and, telling half-truths, would be the best way. Although everybody sees lies as unethical, but, it’d become the lubricating joining gel, with a little bit, plastered, and can make everything stick together better; a world, without the lies, truthful, and still, everything that’s true is too rigid and square, and they’d become, hard to swallow down. But, it takes practice, to become, a good liar, my facial expressions, my tone of voice, all of it, I needed a ton of practice, to make it sound real. Practice lying? It sounded awful in the ears of those righteous adults, but, some of the things that were said, shouldn’t be considered as lies. Later on, I’d discovered, that if everybody knew the truth deep down, then, it wouldn’t be a lie, it’d be, “courtesy” instead: oh, you’re so young. Wow, you’re so pretty. Your children are all very outstanding and very well-behaved.
My mother, isn’t at all that honest either. The two years that my grandmother got sick, until she’d died, my mother never told my grandmother, that actually, she had lymphoma. I don’t know how my mother, who’d taken care of my grandmother the longest had consoled her and answered her inquiries, during the time, she’d gone in and out of the emergency rooms, the ICU, the hospital wards, with so many tests done on her, would someone be so blind, as to become totally oblivious to what one’s diagnosis was, not know, that she was extremely ill? Back then, I was only a few years younger than I am now, I’d grilled my mother, with my student-like naïve nature, and righteousness, mom, how can you lie to grandma? The patient has the right to know, if it were you, wouldn’t you want to know what you have?
“No, I really don’t, if that day comes”, my mother lifted up her buried head, and told me, seriously, “Do lie to me!”
And so, these, are the lies, we told, to protect someone, but, this became inconsistent for the child in the story, she’d been punished for lying, and taught, to ALWAYS tell the truth, but, when the grandmother fell ill, she watched, as her mother lied to her grandmother to her face, and, she’d slowly come to her sense, that life, is not as simple as lies AND truths, there are, gray areas in-between the black and white too!