My Daughter, Who No Longer Needed Me to Wait for the Bus with Her

How fast the children grow up, one day, they still need you, and the very next moment, they no longer, needed you, to watch over them anymore!  Translated…

Having to go to school out-of-district, to the big-eyed girl who’d lived, quite simply, was a huge leap out of her comfort zone, a passageway into, an alternative, realm; while her first obstacle was, take the bus.  For this, she’d asked her classmate to accompany her, and, looking at her animated as she returned, sharing her experiences, I’d thought, she should have, no problems then.

“You will, go with me tomorrow, right?”, the night before the summer sessions, I’d received that, helpless inquiry, which alerted me.  The following morn, I’d gone with the big-eyed girl, to the sidewalk with the huge flamegold, and saw a tour bus, parked by, with the LED lights of “XX Student Shuttle”, I’d said hello to the driver, “I shall be driving this route from here on out”, he’d told me.

Then, going to the bus stop, the two of us, mother and daughter, became our, routines.

how we started…photo from online

And one day, my big-eyed girl did NOT go right up the bus, but instead, traded whispers with the driver, I’d questioned it, but didn’t feel proper to inquire her about it then.  As she’d returned home, she’d told me what the driver told her, “he’d said, you live so close, and you still have your mom accompany you, you need to, learn to get to the bus stop on your own!”, as those words came, the air, froze, “So, will you, still, accompany to the bus stop?”, I’d fallen, silent.

On this night, the darkness draped over us, my daughter didn’t get home, I’d called her cell, she’d not, picked up, which made the wait for her to come home even, longer; then, “CLACK!”, cut open that heavyset air of night, the sound of key turning, my daughter dropped her backpack, mumbled, “I’d accidentally, fallen asleep on the bus, and rode it to the terminal station by accident, there was only, me………….” “How did you get home then?”  “The driver gave me a lift, and he’d told me, ‘young lady, don’t fall asleep again on the bus.’” And, I’d heard the steady voice of the driver, “tell mom, that you will be very safe, there’s nothing she needs to worry about.”

We’d gone from the summer into the winter, I’d thought, that we would, keep on, walking like this, but my big-eyed daughter blocked me from exiting the house with her, looking at her tiny frame, going farther, and farther, and farther, away.  “It’s just a few steps out, why are you, worried?”, her words echoed in my mind, seemingly question my faith in her.  Don’t I trust the characters of the driver?  And, will I give her time, space, to discover who she is, how she is to, become, what and who she wants to, become………….

Then, “Pop”, that thought was, interrupted, I lifted my head, it was the flamegold rain tree’s seed, popping out, the seeds, worked so very hard, to break away out of the shells that once, kept them all, safe, looking back, the shells are still, full but they’d now become, emptied on the inside.  I’d come to understand, that the tree used an entire year, to birth out its, own offspring, and as the seeds are matured, they’d, broken out, and away, far off, and yet, the trees can’t just, let go easily.  Isn’t this, the way of nature, just like how my big eyed daughter will, eventually need to, shoulder her own life, to learn the lessons she would need, and if she’s ready, what right have I, to hold her, back?

“Don’t worry, she’ll be, safe”, the driver’s words echoed between the trees, and the, skies.

and it’d become…like this, as they gained, more independence from us, the parents! Photo from online

And so, this is, watching your own daughter grow up, and, you feel a bit, sad, because she no longer needed you, to watch over her, to take care of everything for her, she is, learning to grow up strong, to take care of herself, and you should be glad, that you’d, taught her well, it’s just, that you feel, a bit, sad, that she’s, needing you, less and less each and every day, but that’s just how life goes.  Children will become, independent of their, parents, and the parents must learn to effectively deal with the sense of, empty nest…

That Young Lad Who Can’t Sit Still

Are these signs for concern?  Not really, because, in your interpretations, your son’s being overly active, it’s just him, being, him!  Translated…

The ball that I’d missed, seemed to have eyes, just, brushed too close to my, ears, your jaw dropped, and, as you’d come to, you’d, started bouncing up and down, like that clown, dancing the moves of the most trendy dance at the times.

what the child enjoys doing…physical activities outdoor! Photo from online

You were just born, and started, exerting signs of your, overactivity.  When you were wrapped up tight in the holding cloth, you’d looked quite, “constipated”, but, once we’d, unrolled you, you’d started, waving your arms, kicking your legs, started, dancing like happy crazy, grandma stated, “he’s an, active one!”  Certainly, grandma was, correct, especially after you’d learned to flip over, to crawl, you’d, not spared a single moments, you were, really, agile too, and, when I was spacing out, you’d, flipped to the other side, and, it’d confused, me as to which direction you’d, gone; I just saw you crawled into the living room, and, in a split second, you were, gone, and I’d not found you, until, I’d, followed the tracks to the, bedroom.

Then, you could walk, at home, in the park, on the playgrounds, you’d, stumbled around, checked your, territories, and, what came into my ears during that period were young baby talks, and the giggling, that came into my mind, time and time again, and brainwashed, me, this was, the most melodic song to my, ears.

also, this too! Photo from online

Then, you’d, caught up with what those young boys loved, speed, straddled on that bicycle, without the training wheels, the snake boards too; but, the heated air started, electrocuting you down, you’d, sought out the speed, but without any concerns for your, safety, gotten all those, bruises, bumps, and more, and I can only, ache for you in my heart, as I’d, patched your injuries, up……there’s nothing I can do, as you’d become, this, overactive, little, man!

And so, this is what, raising a boy is like, those boys, they’re going to, bounce up and down, active in their lives, because that, is what little boys do, and, your young son showed the tendencies of his hyperactivity when he was only, infantile, hated lying on his back, always moving around, for you to, catch up, to find him…

Between Efficiency & Discovery

My way versus your way, which way’s, better???  Why don’t you do your way, and I do mine?  Translated…

My son was, peeling off the garlic, ready to, stir-fry the shark meat, close by to him, I watched, as he worked really hard, trying to, peel off the garlic, then, I’d, picked up the butcher’s knife, SMACK!, took off the garlic peel easily. He’d glanced over, and, continued, using his own way, to do things, I’d not said another word, just, let him do it on his own way.

Recalled how an elder saw that I did the dishes differently than she had, she’d, started, giving me the how-to; out of respect, I’d, followed her means, but, as she’d left the kitchen, I’d started, doing the dishes, my way again.  Think about it, I too, hated, to copy others’ means.

Thinking on the matter more closely, there are, the miniscule, the unimportant matters of life, there’s no need to zoom in on the procedural, so long as I got it done.  But, the more experienced would often direct the younger generations, based off of how they’d done things.  Hoping that by this way, it can save the younger generations some turns, to become, more, efficient, surely, they came from, the good wills, but, disregarded how the younger generations needed to test things out on their own, so they can, gain their own, unique, life experiences, or maybe, the younger generations’ taking the longer routes, taking too much time, but, they’d, gained the results, based off of their own, means.

The means of the older generations, their experiences, surely allowed for the techniques, as well as getting what needed to be done, quicker, and yet, the values of self-discovery, and changing ones’ ways that didn’t work the first time, that is, priceless, besides, the younger generations have the advantage of testing the waters, of adventure; the reactions my son showed, allowed me to understand, that as the children grow older, we need to let go of them, and respect them more on how they choose to, do things on their own.

And so, this just showed, how you should NEVER, impose your ways of doing things, no matter how much more efficient you believe it is onto someone else (i.e. your subordinates, your children, etc., etc., etc.), as everybody HAS her/his own way of working through things, and, who would want someone, to BREATH down her/his necks, when one is, working?  So, don’t be a pain, parents!

The Drawers with All the Different Brands of Cigarettes

How these memories of what’s lost, keeps on, taking over, our, lives…can’t find that familiar taste of cigarette, no matter how hard she’d, tried…on estrangement…translated…

Her first cigarette, was from her, father, he’d taught her to, smoke.

On an ordinary afternoon, she’d gone out with her father, on his deliveries.  She was out of school that afternoon because she’d sustained an injury from the fall off the steps, bumped her head, got sent to the hospital for it.  The school contacted her father, to have him pick her up from the hospital.  He was working, and all the deliveries he was making were all, urgent, he couldn’t, drop her off at home first.

That final place where her father took her to deliver the items was, a famed restaurant, located adjacent to the River of Love.  They were, clearly, late, and, everybody was busying in the supper rush hours, nobody came to sign off on the deliveries.  And so her father parked his truck by the side of the road, stood on the sidewalks with her, with the boxes of refrigerated orders taller than she was between them.

illustration from UDN.com

Waited for too long, her father asked her, can I smoke?  She’d nodded.  He’d lit one up, walked, to the, side.

He normally wouldn’t mind these sorts of small things, but every month, her father would take her to her maternal grandmother’s home, and that was the only chance she got to visit with her mother after they split up.  Every time when the weekends came around, her father would fall, silent, lost in his thought, and would ask more than usual questions of her.  Like, if she’d minded that he’d, smoked in front of her or not.

As he smoked, he’d found her, squatted down, holding her head down, like she’d fallen, ill.  He looked at her, then, pushed out a cigarette, offered it to her.

He’d taught her which end to smoke on, which end to lit the fire to, then, told her to get close to the lighter, to take the inhales, slowly.

Her father believed back then, that smoking could ease her headache a bit, it was so stupid.

In actuality, it wasn’t that she’d felt ill, that she’d held her head, just felt, that it was weird and new, feeling the sutures on her head, the bumps, she’d patted her scars light.

It was quite on the ride that day, all the way until the employees at the restaurant came out, there was only a garbage truck that’s passed them by, and, it wasn’t on duty, because “The Maiden’s Prayer” wasn’t playing.

Late one night after she turned adult, as she was having instant noodle at a 7-Eleven afterwork, there was someone that looked like her father.  The two of them had become estranged, stopped contacting one another, and suddenly, she’d wondered, which brand of cigarette her father had, smoked.  She’d worked hard, to try and remember, but nothing about what the box looked, like.  And so, she’d asked the clerk for one of every available, smoked one from the various packs a day, but hadn’t found one that’s tasted exactly like the one she’d remembered, and the packs got, stashed in the drawer below that drawer of change.

On her thirty-third birthday, that man who she’d met for the very first time opened up her drawer, asked, that she’d smoked that much.  And, the moment she saw that drawer and its, contents, she’d lost it, chased that man out, and, used the entire evening, to smoke every cigarette out of every box again.  But until light the following morn, in the tears, she still, couldn’t, find that scent that she was, familiar with when she was a young child.  She ended up, holding her head, bent over, sat on her, floors.

So, this is how this woman is, searching for her father’s taste and scent, but that taste, that scent had already, been lost through time, and can’t ever, get found back again, but she’d, missed that particular moment of intimacy, of getting close to her own father, as that, was a once-in-a-lifetime encounter, and she’d, longed to, get that taste, that scent of her father’s, cigarette back, so she could, hold on to him, but she can’t find that back, because all’s been, lost, through, time already!

Fighting to Stay Awake, on Parent-Child Interactions

On the son’s, learning to manage his own time between the extracurricular activities and his, academia, translated…

“I dozed off in math class again!  What do I do………”, my son LINED me, with that, crying face.

This was about six months ago, when he was still in the community college level.  With the familiarizing of the school campus environment, his learning, he’d gone from his timidness in class to, after classes, going to the libraries to study by himself, to getting involved in the street dancing crew, rehearsed the dance moves until ten in the evening, by the time he’s done with everything in his dorm, and his assignments, it is usually past one.  He’d, not gotten enough sleep, draining his energies out, the mathematical equations, the basic principles of physics got turned into, that gentle sounding, lullaby, which was no surprise at all.

As I’d first learned, that my son had, stowed away in class for his appointment with the Sandman, having been through the tests, the trials of my schooling career, I’d, offered him some advice on how to stay awake; from chewing gun to liven up the neurons, using the mint oils to wake him up, the vitamin B, and as none worked, his classmate next to him can’t take it anymore, pulled out the 100% pure dark chocolates to share with him, hoping that the bitterness, and the caffeine can wake him up, so he won’t be, scapegoated by the professor.

illustration from UDN.com

And, the topics of discussion with my son went form combating the sleeping bugs to tactics to overcome them, other than the handful times he was successful, more of it was his sharing with me, his failed attempts, of how he’d, pinched his own thighs, to wake himself up from the pains, to how he’d, ended up, raising that white flag in, defeat, he’d, never, won, not even, once!

The result of his, repeated defeats, showed in the midterm exams.  The low score finally made him realized, his own, need for sleep, and he’d started, adjusting his, schedules on his own, to shorten the time of his dance rehearsals, and finally, he’d, stopped, going to meet up with the, Sandman in the lectures.

Recalling those days of how we’d, tried to, help him stay awake, I’d had the thoughts of telling him to “focus on the academics, and not on the extracurriculars.  But thankfully, I’d, swallowed these words down.  At age sixteen, for an adolescent, the very first step toward his, independence, is time-management, along with balancing his schoolwork, with his extracurricular activities.  No matter how much people say around him, nothing beats what he’d learned on his own, as he’d, stumbled and fallen, and hurt himself, then tried to, get back up again!  And, of course, we should NEVER, strip our own young of this, “trial-and-error”, just because we can see the difficulties they will be, faced, with.

And, because of how he’d ultimately learned to, adjust his own means, he was able to, be the “Adolescent that played with Fire” at the exhibition show, and, his final grades were all, passing.  As I’d talked with him on this before school began, he’d smiled and told me, “I’d not dozed off in class a long time already!”, and, he is about to, return back to campus, to show off all the cool dance moves he’d, developed during the winter vacation with his extracurricular group soon!

And so, this parent, instead of telling her son, that NO, you can’t go to dance practice, she’d allowed him to stumble on his own, so he can learn, to adjust his own schedules, to manage his own time better, which the son learned to, and, the mother didn’t need to worry about him not passing his classes again, because the son’s found a working method, to study and to dance.  This young man learned to manage his own time, and all the parent did was to, let him do it!

You Can’t Love Me Right, ‘Cuz, Ain’t NOBODY Ever Loved You Right

This is, the absolute T-R-U-T-H!!!

You can’t love me right, ‘cuz, ain’t NOBODY ever loved you right, not YO MAMAS, YO daddies, your girlfriend/boyfriend, and now, not even your own, young.

You can’t love me right, ‘cuz, ain’t NOBODY ever loved you right, and, childhoods are, way, way, WAY behind us all, and, we can’t, EVER get those, do-overs ever.

You can’t love me right, ‘cuz ain’t NOBODY ever loved you right, and I stopped, longing, relying on you, to love me, since, I, grew up!

You can’t love me right, ‘cuz ain’t NOBODY ever loved you right, and, I can’t love you now either (even though, I know what love is, and how to give it to others…).  You can’t love me right, ‘cuz ain’t NOBODY ever loved you right, and, this is, how I reciprocate, the “kindness” (still sarcasm talkin’ here), you’d shown me, straight, back to, you!

And you got NO way of stopping this, “abuse” of mine, to you,  and no, I still, do NOT abuse anyone, because unlike you, I know how to differentiate between good and bad, what’s right, and, what’s, wrong, unlike Y-O-U.

The Pandemic & Family Relations

Everything you were worried about before you left to visit your son, became, excessive, but hey, you are a parent, and, parents would always, worry about their own young, nonstop, right?  Yeah, that’s because you don’t realize, that fate will take care of everything in our, lives…translated…

Eight years ago, I’d decided to move back to Taiwan, to take care of my mother, as I’d decided to leave my only son in the U.S. to find employment, I’d worried, incessantly then.

Before leaving the U.S., we’d sold the house, left nothing for our son, hoping he could become independent on his own; but, after a few years or working in the food industries, he couldn’t even live out his dreams of having a food truck, he’d started, showing signs of, depression, refusing to get vaccinated.  At the time when the pandemic was most severe, I’d, flown to the U.S. to see him, to let him know, that mom’s care for him, had never been, gone.

From before, when I’d gone to visit him in the U.S., I’d stayed at friend’s houses, coming and going in a hurry, I’d not even seen where he was staying, and the meals we’d gone out for, lasted only, two, three short, hours; this time, he’d, invited me to stay with him, let up his own bedroom, and it’d, made me feel, pampered.  In the month and a half, I’d, made his meals every day, as a professional chef, he too, had, prepared for me, a few of his, agile dishes, especially the barbecue pork ribs that I’d, longed for so much.  The two of us both, treasured these moments we got to, sit down and eat together very much.

her son’s dreams…

that’s come, true! Photo from online

To save up the money, he’d originally wanted to stop the rents of the place he lives in, and start camping out in his own car, but after I’d, analyzed the means for him, after we’d, discussed the matter more, he’d not only decided to continue the rent, also, agreed to get vaccinated too; as for his dreams of purchasing a food truck to start his own business, I’d, searched with him, found a brand new, and reasonably priced food truck, now, he can finally, live his dreams, of working on a, food truck.

My son is an only child, and we are both working, he doesn’t have many friends.  Thankfully, his friend, Ken had asked him to move in as a roommate, to share the rent, they now have the company of one another.  I’d thanked Ken for looking out for my son personally, and, everything that’s worried me before I went to the U.S., all found their, resolves on their, own.

It took me a total of thirty-eight hours for the total flight, the transfer, to finally get back to Taiwan, and, after the fourteen days’ worth of quarantine in the hotels, and seven days’ worth health self-managing, I finally got to, sleep on my own, bed.  The pandemic had affected the whole world, and it’d, given me a whole month and a half with my son, and it’d, made us realized, how much we cared for one another.

So, this is on the good thing that came out of the pandemic, and, everything you were worried about, became, excess, because fate will take care of your own young, and, he’d found his “calling”, as a food truck owner, with a good friend of his.

Blessings

The love, care, and concern goes, both ways, when the parents showed that they cared for their young, their young will naturally, reciprocate too, translated…

The department I asked to get transferred to a little over six months ago, don’t know if it’s how I didn’t suck up, or that there’s that unmatched fengshui, a senior employee had zoomed in to me, and used an assortment of measures, to give me troubles, or used sarcasm and mockery, to give me a hard time, and it’d troubled me, because I’d always, kept my head low to work, did what’s, assigned to me.

Several times I’d gone back home, and as I’d sat after meal to talk with my parents, I’d told them the troubles the woman was giving me at work, and, I did this, so my parents wouldn’t have to worry over me, on how I was, adjusting to working in the, brand new, department.

And, this time as I’d gone home, my mother told me secretly, that at bedtime, when he and my mother prayed, they would both, asked Buddha to get the senior female employee off my back.  As I’d heard my mother told me, I’d half jokingly told, “the gods are so busy, how would they find mind for these, minor, matters of me!”, actually, I’d felt, wonderful, that they’d cared for me to do such a thing.

And, what I’d not said that I’d, kept hidden was, that if the wishes can come true, I hope, that my parents will forever stay as healthy as they are, after all, the flairs we get at work are only, temporary, only the health of my families are what’s, most, important, that, is what I, truly, wish, for.

And so this is on how the parents worried about their offspring, despite how they are already adults, and this woman, she felt her parents’ heart, and in turn, she’d hoped, that her parents will have good health, the love is, reciprocated here.

The Incentives from My Father

The meaning of why his father had, offered his class the rewards, finally became, clear as he’d, aged in the years, finally…translated…

My father was out of a job a year after he married my mother, and he’d had to move to Fengyuan from Taichung, opened up a wooden slipper shop next to his father-in-law’s home.  But, making the wooden slippers for others, it’d, damaged his, ego, soon enough, he’d closed that shop, and started operating a stationery shop.

The location of his shop was about two hundred meters from the local elementary school, with the customers being the school children.  It was 1958, I was entering the elementary years.  The night before school started, my father had sharpened three pencils, put them in a wooden pencil box for me, and the eraser, the rulers, etc., etc., etc., the following morn, bright and early, he’d taken me to school.

My father was educated using the Japanese military ways, he had an awful temper after he’d lost his job, and had often, beaten me.  As he saw my instructor, he’d told her to discipline me more, and mentioned that he’d owned a school supplies store, that she could get the students to shop there more.  And, he was willing to provide the rewards for the students who’d done well too, a pencil for a perfect score on the monthly scheduled exams.

Back then we had three subjects, Chinese, arithmetic, and general sciences, we got tested every single month.  There were many classmates who’d scored three hundred, and every one of them got three free pencils, and there were also the two subjects with the perfect scores and the one; and it’d cost my father too many, pencils, and after a few months, he’d started, feeling the strains, and so, he’d negotiated with my teacher, that if the students scored perfect score in all the three subjects, then he would give out a pencil, and an eraser each.

And certainly, there weren’t that many who did, not even, me, and my father was, disappointed.  Back then, there’d only been six, to seven classmates with the perfect scores.  And my father discussed it with my instructor, again, that the top ten high test scores get the prizes for the monthly exams.

illustration from UDN.com

Unfortunately, either it’s fate playing tricks on me, or that I’d, been too unstudious, to the point of subconsciously, not wanted those rewards, I’d fallen out of the top ten places.  And then, my father changed to the top fifteen, with the bigger prizes for those who’d made the higher in placements.

And, there was still, rarely any, chances of me, getting the rewards from him, let alone, getting the, highest, grade in class.

After elementary school, I’d gone to Taichung for middle school, my father no longer physically punished me, and the rewards, ended as well.

After dozens of years in the testing, scored the higher marks for the national’s government post exams, I’d become, a public servant, and stayed in the same unit for more than thirty years until I retired.  Although, I’d gained the accolades, but there wasn’t anything worth noting, and those rewards became, like the prizes in my elementary school career: unappeasing to me.

My father’s shop closed back in my university years, and he’d been gone for more than two decades now.  But every time I passed a stationery shop, I’d gotten reminded of how my father had, given the simple rewards to the students who’d done well academically.

And, many more years later, I’d, finally understood, reason why he, who’d always been strict, rarely smiled, providing the rewards to the class, was his only way of, encouraging me, of showing that he cared, it’s just, that I couldn’t understand it, he must’ve been, quite, disappointed in me when I was younger then?

Some things, it takes our lifetime, to finally understand, like this man’s story, he’d not realized the purpose of his father’s providing the gifts for the class, was to encourage him to do better in school, and he’d not wanted the items his father had in his shop anyway, so.

Sense & Sensibility

Not the book by Austen, the son who’s an, engineer, with a, more, poetic, artistic, expressive, mother, and the “sparks” from their, interactions…translated…

With the springtime drizzles, I’d taken advantage of the sunny weather, put out the thick quilts, spread them under the sun, so they can be, baptized by the rays of the sunshine.

this would be, what the son’s mind looked, like…illustration from online

In the evening, I’d, hauled the fluffy quilt that’s been “sunbathed” in, I’d opened my nostrils, and breathed in deeply, enjoyed that scent of the gone-away sunshine, and sighed, “so aromatic!”, at this time, my son, he’d, poured that bucket of cold water on me, “that was the barbecue smell of tens of millions of, dust mites, of course, they’re, so, freshly ‘cooked’………”, and, I’d felt, awkward in the moment then.

Certainly, he is, an engineer major all right, too factually oriented, but, completely, unromantic, can he, have more, sensibilities, in the midst of his, sense too!

and her’s, more like, this, more on the, creative, side…illustration from online

Yeah, that, is how things are, perceived and, experienced by the different kinds of minds, on the one hand, you’re more of a romantic thinker, using your senses to experience the world, while your son, he’s, more of a, realist, using rationalism as his guide, everything is, scientific, and needed to be, factually based, and so, naturally, the two of you, won’t see, eye-to-eye as often as you wished.