A Lifelong Hobby

It’s NEVER good, to PUSH your children into something, instead, you should, allow them, to discover just how much they love that hobby you want them to take up, on their own, and, don’t force them to sit down at that piano, to practice for an hour each and every day, because that’s, torture, instead, allowing them, to discover their own hobby, by themselves, slowly, if they’re, mean to, translated…

After reading the writer, Tseng’s “Meeting Up Again with the Piano” on March 4^th, it’d, made me recall my childhood memories, and extended into my current days.

My mother was an elementary school teacher, in the low wages of the fifties, she’d, squeezed out the tuitions, or us to go from the countryside of Chihshan to Kaohsiung to take piano lessons, and told us we all needed to sit at the piano and practice for an hour at least per day.

Being as young as we were, how would we know our parents’ hearts, in the three, four years of lessons, going to the piano teacher’s house was like going to the guillotine, I’d, hated it but not known, how to, rebel against it.

The pressures of keep going in my academic WAS, a great excuse for not taking the piano lessons anymore, seeing how my eldest and second eldest brother entering into the middle school years, getting away from the “guillotine”, and I, the only one who remained in the torture chambers.  This day had, finally, arrived, before the schools started in my middle school year, as the piano teacher played a new song for me, I’d told him, “I’ll be starting in middle school soon, I can’t take lessons with you anymore!”, seeing how shocked my piano instructor looked, I’d felt, that I’d, made my, revenge!

a child that looks, engaged…photo from online

During the summer of my second year in middle school, a group of us gone to a classmate’s home to hang, there was, a white grand piano in the room, and the group of us, started, tapping at the keys, I’d, followed the sheet music, and played the notes on it, and, I was shocked, that this easy to play piece had, brought out, that familiar, tune, and I’d, borrowed the sheet music, took it home to practice, the piece was, “Fur Elise”, as my second eldest brother who was in high school heard me played, he’d, sat down next to me and started playing too.

Because of the foundations of piano lessons lain earlier in my life, we’d found the sheet music we liked and started, playing again, from the classical to jazz, and, when we got into it, we would have a four-hand playing.  We’d played on, for decades, and it’d become, a hobby that we keep, for life now, from before, we’d not wanted to take the lessons, using our academic stresses as an excuse, and, later we’d realized, that in a lot of the times, piano playing, is a good method of, stress-relief.

And, naturally, I’d, wanted to, pass this, gift to my own young, a decade ago, when my daughter was in the elementary years, I’d, coaxed her onto the piano bench, with my own experience in childhood, I knew better, not to force it on her, that I’d had to, give her the rewards too.  My daughter wasn’t the talented sort, to help her continue learning the piano, I’d, carefully, guided her, sometimes, I’d, not forced her to play, to practice, and at others, I’d, told her she’d, needed to sit down and play for a while.

And finally, we’d, made it through, six whole years, and she had, all her fundamentals down pat, just about, and I’d, sat with her on the four-hand piano, and, before the pressures that is about to come toward her at the end of her last year of middle school, I’d decided, to end her lessons, and gave her a “graduation ceremony”, I’d told her, “this is the end of my demands for you to play the piano, from here on out, you get to decide, whether or not YOU want to, play.”

And, surely enough, I’d not, seen her, sit down on the piano bench since, and, three years flew by, at the start of this year, I’d heard her telling me that she’d wanted to, “practice my skills back again.”, I can’t, believe my ears.  Yet, it’d been, two whole months, past her high school entrance exams, and I’d not heard, a single note yet, I’d, told myself, don’t expect too much.

Several days ago, as I came home from outside, before I’d turned the keys, I’d already, heard the piano songs, coming out of the living room, and I’d felt, moved……………

So, this still just showed, how as parents, we should, NEVER force our own dreams onto our young, we may give them lessons, if they ask us to let them learn, but, we shouldn’t, FORCE them to play the musical instrument, I mean, they’re still young children, and children, have limited attention span, and forcing them to SIT down for hours to practice the songs, it’s just, too unrealistic, and, this may end up, slaughtering the love your children had originally, of music, and have the opposite effect of what you’d, hoped to give to them.  If they’re meant to pick it back up again, then they will.

The Gift of, Love

The final gift of love, of acceptance, she’d, left, for her son to have, after she’d, passed away, translated…

The red-and-violet colored paperflower are in full bloom in the garden, she sat, in her wheelchair, with her son, pushing her around, going between the bushes, the wooden beams of the floral rack cut the sunshine into, chunks, and this is, a freeze frame of bliss, while the footsteps of death, are, quarantined, in another, space.

She was hospitalized from the complications of her lung cancer’s metastasis, stayed in the terminal ward now, and, just like most of the single mothers, she’d, worked hard, raised her son up to a man, and her son is, in the high-tech industries, making the top dollars too, and although, he’d, studied away, and worked in a city away from where she lives, the two of them mother and son, don’t see each other regularly, but she’d, firmly believed, that the youths, the breaking up of the earlier years in her marriage, what’s waiting toward the end, is the blessings she was, bound to receive, and yet, her blessings had, yet to be granted to her, and, she’s now, faced with death.  I’d, consoled with her, that her son took a leave of absence for FOURTEEN days from work, just to stay by her side, that instead of wallowing in self-pity, she should instead, cherish this time she has with him, because this, was such, a rare occasions, when it’s just the two of them, mother, and son together!

“My empress, I’m here, for my shift.  Sir, you can, head over to the bank to sort your business out, and worry not, the empress I shall keep, company of!” I’d, intentionally, bowed to her, as the ancient imperial times, she’d started, laughing, and told, that her mood’s lifted up since she started living here.  Her son also told me, “thank you, aunty volunteer!  Since my mother got here, her body stopped hurting and she’s, sleeping, better too!”

illustration from UDN.com

Seeing this wonderful kid off, she’d, smiled that satisfactory, smile, then, handed me her cell, wanted me to record her last words on voicefile for her, that was, the gift she has, for her son, and that, was the very first time I’d ever heard of someone using her last words, as a gift.

We’d, used the backdrop of the flowers in full bloom, and she’d, started, stating the words using the accent of Hakka speaking in Mandarin, told her son things.  She’d felt, that she was always, someone, who’d, lowered her head, worked hard, and NEVER had the courage to, shoulder anything, so a lot of things, she’d, told her son to decide for her.  And, she’d wanted to apologize to her son too, that she’d known of his secrets long ago, she just, didn’t say anything, she was, struggling with it, blamed herself, believed, that it was because she’d not shown him enough care and concern, to cause him to “turn” this way, then, she’d felt that if her son can have someone who’s, supportive of him, a partner for life, so what if, it’s another man that he’s, in love with?  But, as she’s still living, she didn’t have the courage to face her son’s, “friend”, but, she offered them, her fullest, blessings now, this was, the only gift she can, leave, behind for them both………

As the fourteen days were up, her son left for work, on the noon, shortly after we’d, brushed her hair, bathed her body, she’d, set sail, to the, other side.  I’d, handed the cell phone to her son, told him that his mother’s, last words were in the voice recordings.

As I past the waiting room of the families, I saw a good looking, older boy sitting, and my instinct told me, that he was, it, I’d asked him to head into the hospital ward, to be with his “friend”, and tell her thanks, goodbye, that aunt had already, given them, her, blessings.

After I took that boy to the ward, I’d gone to water the plants in the garden, and, that paperflower bloomed, even more, radiantly under the bright sunshine, and I’d, recalled how it was, when I’d, recorded her last words for her, and I’d started humming that oldie, “I want to give you the gift of love, wishing you, all the, happiness of the world…………”

This, is the final gift this mother gave to her son, and, the man’s homosexuality, must’ve, caused some unease in their lives, but, I’m sure, that after this man hears the recording of his mother’s, final words, he will realize, that she’d always been on his side…

To Help Better the Interactions of Parents & Children, the Taiwanese Fund for Children & Family Foundation Workstation Opened its Workshops

The foundation’s attempts to shift the focus back to parents interacting with their own young, and hope this works…off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

The joys of becoming parents from the start, may be gone, in the pressures of providing for our own children, the very first friendly space set up by the Taiwanese Fund for Children & Family Org “the Taipei Green Corner Wenshan Parent-Children Workshop” had its grand opening yesterday, differing from the normal services provided in the childcare realms, it’d hoped that through the constant companionships of professionals, it can help the parents and children find a positive way to interact with each other, and strengthens the values of parental education, which hopefully, can reduce the chance of child abuse, and be used as the first line of defense against child abuse.

a play place like this one, where the parents can interact with their own young…photo found online

The Taiwanese Fund for Children & Families pointed out, that every child deserves to be treated well, that the Green Corner Wenshan Close Corner Workshop in Taipei is the very FIRST space that the foundation’s set up that’s parent and children friendly, acting as a companion to all parents.  Using the community as a fall back, of prevention, to help the parents accompany their young to grow up, to show that every child is unique, a different and separate entity from the parents.

The foundation gave the example, the mother, Feng, was once very depressed dealing with her own children’s behaviors, the parent and child conflicted a lot, and through the intervention from the workshop, the mother restructured the way she’d interacted with her own young, and learned to be a more balanced mom, viewed the child’s uniqueness as positive, and the parent-child relationship slowly improved.  Another full-time mother, Jia-Jia has two children, and in the process of caring for her young children, she’d felt alone, and fell into self-doubt, in the social workers of the Wenshan Close Corner, she’d found the meanings to raising her own young, and found the values in herself too.

And so, this is, a necessary service, and thankfully, this not-for-profit organization found a way, to provide it for the parents who feel they’re, all alone on their own, raising their children up, and, parenting skills is a LEARNED behavior, and it’s usually, through experiences, that we will finally, acquire, the right methods to deal with our own young, and this not-for-profit center helps the adults BE better parents to their own young, which is WHAT we’re in need of current day.

No Worries

Can’t set our minds at ease, no matter what, because we cared too much about each other!  Translated…

My son has, absolutely NO faith, that his scatterbrained mother can take care of his young by herself, and I can’t feel secure, that he’s riding out late at night, making the deliveries, it’s, a looped around cycle of worrying, between parents and children.

The sudden onset of the outbreak of MERS-CoV, it’d, impacted the industries across the world, being on the front lines in the tourism industries, you can’t imagine it.  And, even though, we’re, going into, the post-outbreak times, the tourist industries tried to make it, by, proposing the trips within the country, but my daughter-in-law is responsible for the tour groups abroad, and, it’s going to take a while, until that start back up again.  In this very hard time, those who worked in her office took the pay cuts, some got laid off, everybody was on high alert, some quickly, transferred to alternative industries of work, to take the baseline minimum monthly wages to make ends meet.  And at this time, my young granddaughter came, and, other than the basic living needs, there’s, this extra expense, and so, my son had to, start making the deliveries after his regular work hours.

Canceling the nannies, and I’d become, the temp nanny, and I, naturally, supported my son’s methods of saving the money.  Actually, I’d, longed to have a grandchild a very long time, and, as I was gloating on it, my son handed me the Holy Bible of childcare that the nurses made from the hospital for the new parents, reiterated, “When you make the milk, first the water in the bottle, then the formula, make sure that the formula is melted completely, to the left and right, don’t shake the bottle up and down then, place it under the sink to get it cooled off, it can’t be too hot.” “Pour the unfinished amount out, don’t save it for the next feeding time.”  “Now the diapers have the signals of if it’s wet, when the signal turned from yellow to blue, time to change.” “Newborns shouldn’t sleep on their tummy, it would cause sudden infant death.”  “oh, and don’t feed her any water!”

I nodded, like a good student, listening to the words of the school teacher, thought: this first-time grandma, is an excellent master back when, it’s just, I hadn’t, be in the realms a long time, I’d just, lost, all of my childrearing methods.

illustration from UDN.com

And, even though he’s away at work, he was, ill at ease, my LINE kept ringing nonstop.  “Mom, nothing’s going on, I just want to check in.”  “Did you put her down to a nap yet?”  “She cries a lot these few days, can you manage it?”, and, to stop him from flash-messaging, I’d sent him the photos of my young granddaughter, even though it was over forty years since I took care of a baby, but I still got it, I can, so totally, handle, a baby.

And, I’d, finally set my son’s mind to ease, but he’d, gotten me worried, I’d told him as he was getting out, “If you bump into a gambler, a drunk, or a drug dealer, if something feels like it’s, going south, RUN like the wind!” my son laughed at me, “it don’t matter who’s calling the deliveries, so long as they pay up.”  He’d not come home late in the night, and I’d not dared, sat in the living room and wait up, and, as I heard the key turn the lock outside, my unsettled heart calmed, and suddenly, by the following second, I was, able to, drift off into dreams.

Recalling how forty years back, I’d worked night and day, to help pay up the debts accumulated by my in-law’s family, my son were given to my ill mother-in-law and my chain-smoking father-in-law, I’d often snuck back home during work, to check out my eldest with two snots rolling down from his nostrils, getting held too tight, by my mother-in-law, whose bones had been malformed from arthritis; and my youngest son was often burned by accident by my father-in-law who had a cigarette in his mouth, dozed off to sleep, and yet, as I saw how sorry my in-laws looked, I couldn’t blame them.  And, no matter how awful, how insecure I’d felt, I still needed to believe, that these grandparents who may not be able to handle them, have the best intentions in mind, and will do their best, to care for my young sons.

Let go.  Set your heart at ease.  I’d, warned myself: the outbreaks shall pass soon, and everything will become normal, I just need to take care of my granddaughter well, so my son won’t have any worries, working, we both, need to, have that ease of mind here.

And so, this showed, just how, intertwined the parents and children are, from before, you worried about your own young, and now, he worries about his own young, and you too, and this, is just how parents and children are, we all worry too much!

An Accidental Father

A conversation with one’s own young, on the duties, obligations, responsibilities of parents, from a legal angle here, translated…

“Mommy, what are you reading?”, my younger child came toward my desk, saw that blue-covered, yellowed pages, diary in my hand.

“This was your grandfather’s diary.”  I’d held back my tears, put it up in silence.

“When I was young, grandpa always told me, I’ll take you to Carrefour, RT Mart, bought me all those treats!”, my daughter got nostalgic.

this???  photo from online

Yeah!  Mommy’s busy working, grandpa and grandma came to mommy’s rescue every time, and I’d needed them to come watch you and your older brother often.

“I loved going to the toy store with papa!”, my older son told, “I saw a limited edition Gundam that’s very expensive, papa didn’t have that much money, but I’d told papa that by tomorrow, it’ll be, gone!  And on that very night, papa went and bought it!”  my son has the potential as a scam artist, and I’m sure, that my father was, more than glad to get, cheated too.

“I don’t think I remember my inside grandpa and grandma at all!”, my younger daughter stated.

“what inside grandpa and grandma?  Your paternal grandparents, my parents!”, her father laughed and straightened her out.

Because they got too old, and, God called them up earlier to be fairies, you were still, too young.

or this…photo from online

So as mommy read through papa’s diary, she got sad.  Especially how today is Father’s Day, I really hope that I can have that meal with my father, to watch T.V. together, to have this, ordinary sort of a bliss again.

My younger daughter hesitated a bit, ran to get a cup of tea, and, served it with great respect to her father.

And her father flipped through the papers, and let out a cool sort of “hmmmmmmmm!”, and I saw that smile, curling up his lips, he was now, gloating!

“there’s only one dad, you must, cherish him!”, my son is now, sucking up too, with a fan, fanning to cool his dad down, maybe, he’d not done well on an exam, and needed to put out his father’s fire before he’d shown the papers for him to sign.

There’s, that mix and match of emotions that’s between parents and children, sometimes, what happened was, more dramatic that the soap, more imaginative than those novels.

Remembered how we’d all gone to see that Japanese film, “My Accidental Father”?  the gynecology nurse envied someone else’s happiness, switched the two newborn infants up.  Six years later, the truth came out, how were these two families supposed to, cope with, this huge accident in their lives?

The two fathers, one was an elite excellent architect; the other, an electrician, who’s, easy going in nature.  Which one would best fit the children to be raised in?

“What if, this actually happened?”, my younger daughter became worried.

The way the movie worked out, it’s, gentle and understanding.  But in reality, the parent-child relationships, were based, off of the laws.  There are the adopted children and the blood-related children in the facets of the law.

“Children should follow the filial piety duties toward their parents.  As Civil Law 1084 stated.”  Dad recited it aloud.

“Second, parents should protect and educate the underage minors”, mommy added.

You want to match memories?  You’d forgotten to hold my hands first time we went out on a date, as we crossed that intersection; on our second date, you’d dozed off, started snoring; and, by the third date………………(deleted millions of characters here!)

Dad who was on his tea started choking on it, started coughing hard, and, escaped into the bathrooms.

“Mommy, there’s a sixteen-year-old daughter who’d sued her father, because he wouldn’t buy her a cell phone”, my older son thumbed through the online news.

“there are the fathers who’d sued their young for parental support, but the judge said the children didn’t need to pay it!”, my younger daughter discovered something as well.

Ahh, the stories mom heard and saw in court, last longer than the Arabian Nights!

There was a middle aged man who got in court and started crying on the stand, it’d made mommy want to lose it too.

“Mommy don’t cry”, my older son handed a tissue to me, “I thought only daddy can get you worked up, can’t imagine someone else had too!”, came my husband’s coughing from the bathroom again!

“what had happened?”, my children both got curious.

That middle aged man’s father left the family when he was a young child, it was his mother who’d raised him all on her own, him and his two other siblings, with only enough money for a rental stay, they kept switching in and out of their residences, forgot to go to the land offices to change their addresses.  The three siblings took out the student loans, and worked part-time, get themselves through school, and finally, this middle aged man had his own family, started raising his own young, finally, he was able to give his mother a good life.

But, the middle aged man’s father suddenly returned, Social Services notified this man to go and claim his own father’s dead body.

“What?”, my daughter covered up her ears, couldn’t dare hear the rest of the story.

His father who’d only shown up as a registered name on his national identification card, finished his final passage of life in a nursing home.  Before this, the Social Services sent multiple notices to his registered address, to let them know that they needed to pay for the owed fees of having his father placed, but they’d, already moved out, and through the searches, the Social Services finally found the three brothers and sister.  Based off of the law, there’s the obligation for care, so the nursing home demanded that they pay for the money for their father’s care.

“But this dad had never been responsible at all toward his own young!”, my older son became confused.

During the time when their father went missing, the family didn’t know to report him missing, while their mother never filed for divorce either, let alone the children never knew they could file a petition to “relieve themselves of caretaking duties toward their father”.

“If the fathers didn’t care for their children when they were young, then he can’t ask them to take care of him when he’s old, is that what this means?”, my son inquired.

“Hmmm, it’s called ‘Without just cause not providing for one’s own children’, Civil Law 1118 section 1.”  Dad finally showed up, replied, “every unfortunate family has a different bad story.”  From before, the former generations said raising the children so they don’t need to worry about their old age, and now it’s, taking of the elderly years, watching out for the young.

“So, do we save the allowance you give us and pay you back when you’re older?”, my daughter asked.

Nope!  Child.  It’s the parents’ responsibilities, AND obligations to raise their young, same for how the children treat their own parents.  This is not a sales or a trade-off, it’s not quid-pro-quo, tit-for-tat, nor trading the younger years, for that permanent meal ticket in old age.

But, we must admit, that in this world, there are, the unfitting parents, also, the bad children too.  If this middle aged man’s father was found of not providing for his children when they were younger in evidence, the law must agree too, at this time, forcing the children to act kind, wouldn’t be just, or right.

“But this sort of cases are post-date.  Meaning, that you must file a formal lawsuit with the courts, and after you’d won the case, then, you will be alleviated from paying for the care.”, dad got serious, answering the inquiries now.

So, the debts accumulated by this middle aged man before he died, for his care, the country believed that it’s paying for him temporarily, that in the end, this middle-aged man will pay for.

“But, what if you don’t have children?”, my younger daughter voiced her worries, she’d not planned to get married, or have any kids.

It’s, the million dollar question of elderly caretaking, and national social security, how the policies should be, set up all right!

Should the only reason for what constitutes as parents and children based only off of blood?  And, the social security, is it an act of kindness, or a responsibilities for all of us, citizens to carry?

“Mom, stop worrying, you’ll get more wrinkles!”, my older son reminded me kindly.

It’d hit dad suddenly, he’d suggested, “Today’s Father’s Day, let’s go offer incense to both your grandfathers, and tell them we’re all very happy together.”

And then?

“Let’s have a gourmet meal, to thank me, as a responsible dad, of course!!!”, dad said, with that, affirmative tone of voice.

And so, this, is a discussion that’s, sparked up by the kids, and the parents are more than willing, to help the children get more educated, with their separate areas of expertise, and through this conversation shared with their young, both the parents and the children benefitted.

Traumatized, Between a Parent & a Child

The adults’ careless words that impacted a child into the adulthood years, this showed the extent of your words, and their effects in your children’s lives, translated…

When I was five, I’d always, slept, with upside down on my parents’, bed, they couldn’t understand why I’d needed to sleep with them, and, they couldn’t, get me to stop climbing in next to them in the middle of the nights, but, because I’d, adjusted my sleeping postures soon enough, they’d, allowed me to sleep with them, and they’d, forgotten this, tiny interlude of my, childhood years.

But I still remember something that upset me during this period of time. 

Late one night, I suddenly woke, heard my parents in conversation, I’d not moved an inch, I’d not wanted to listen in on their conversations, just wanted to, fall back to sleep again, but, a sentence that’s stayed with me came into my ear canals, ‘if my daughter was so-and-so that would be wonderful!”

The person my parents were referring to was my older female cousin, very well-behaved, did excellent academically too, it’s only natural, that the adults, loved her so, but, am I, really, that awful?  I’d started, to cry in the darkness, until my parents finished their conversations, fell asleep, I’d, still, stayed, wide awake, shocked, at this “secret” I’d heard.

“So, mom and dad don’t love me”, this thought started, rooting itself down inside of my young mind, and after this long, even though, the vines that entangled me in were, already, cut off almost, completely, but, I couldn’t, uproot this thought one bit.

The adults may think, that children can’t understand, or that they forget easily, and sometimes, their, careless words, blurted out, had caused the traumas in your young’s mind forever.

And this is precisely W-H-Y, you FUCKING (don’t pardon me here!!!) adults need to WATCH what you say in front of your kids, because even IF you think they’re not listening, their eyes are still, watching G-O-D, with their ears, tuned IN to your words, so, DO take this into consideration, the next time you want to blurt something out, even IF you don’t mean it so seriously, your young will, take it to heart, ‘cuz that’s, what we, children, ALL do!!!

My Daughter’s Response, on Parent-Child Interactions

Allowing your own young to experience, so s/he knows, that MOMMY is, RIGHT!!!  Translated…

My daughter woke up late this morn, I’d placed her breakfast into a box, for her to bring to school.  At this time, she’d told me she’d not wanted to eat it at school.  I’d hollered, “Why?”, she’d, minced her lips, refused to tell me another word, I’d thought for a bit, and asked, “do you want to take the time before classes to finish your assignments?”, she’d nodded, “it’s too time consuming to have to eat breakfast at school, it takes away the time from me doing my homework.”

I had to admit, I’d felt, a bit, emotional as she’d told me this.  I thought it’s, defeating the whole purpose of things, thinking of finishing her assignments on time, not caring about her health.  Besides, “homework’, is supposed to be work, taken home to complete, and yet, she’d been, rushing through the assignments in the mornings as she arrived at school, to the point of, giving up breakfast, this is, so totally, not, understandable.

As I was about to go into lecture at her, suddenly, I thought of myself.  In the elementary years, I’d gotten too busy with the various kinds of contests and competitions; in middle school, the pressures of academic made me buried in books; entered into high school, I’d, insisted I could, handle both my academia and my extracurricular activities; as I started n college, I’d, burned off my youth like crazy—but, during those years, my mother never said anything.  Surely, she’d, nagged, it’s just, she couldn’t, do a thing, as her daughter is, very much an, independent thinker, and, finally, allowed me to, be.

Many years later, in the mornings, I stood before my daughter, and, suddenly understood, my own mother’s, nagging back then.  Toward the young, mothers always showed their care and concerns, there were the, worries, always wanting to, offer the best answers for her life.  But, because I’d been a kid myself, I knew, that a lot of the lessons in life, you must learn, personally, for you, to come to realize, what is, the correct answer, and so, I’d come to understand, that the best thing for me to do right now, is, just zip it up.

Finally, as I saw her off into the school, I’d stated, “mom believe you are, able to decide correctly for yourself, breakfast, or not breakfast!”

I can even, give, the correct answer, and then, justify my claims of why my answer is correct, and yet, no matter how perfect I’d, argued my case, it won’t, do a thing for my daughter, because it’s not the answer she’d found by herself.  The only thing I can do, is to give her room, to discover, to hit, for her to, persuade herself, at the same time, having the faith, that she is, able to, persuade herself.

Turns out, what’s harder in caring for our young, is letting them go, to allow them, to make their own, choices in life.

In the evenings as she came back home, she took out the packed breakfast box.  I took a look, nothing’s inside.  She stuck out her tongue and told me, “I was so hungry, and so, I couldn’t help, but eat it.”

Maybe, these lessons of our young, rather than, drying up our own tongue, why not, allow their, rumbling stomachs, to teach them what’s correct.

And so, this, is how a child learns, that her mommy’s, right (and of course, us mommies, are ALWAYS and FOREVER right!), but for our young to understand that we ARE right, sometimes, we need to, stop worrying about them, to just, let go, and let them touch the FIRE, so they get burned, and that hurt register inside their brains, OUCH!  It’s hot, and I shouldn’t touch, like this mother did, for her own young, to LEARN, that HER mother, is R-I-G-H-T!!!

Meeting My Daughter Who Ran Away, a Poem

On accepting death, finally, translated…

She is My Daughter

But She, Ran Away

Perhaps, it’s the Wind, the Night Skies

The Stars, the Clouds, the Sunsets Tempting Her on

The River Flowed, the Grasses Grew

I Don’t Know How to, Call Her Back

She was My Daughter of the Past

Born, into the Night, Forgotten, by Sunrise

She was, Never, Returned to My Side

Only Left a Letter, at that High Tower of the Ancient Times

Under the Mulberry Tree, with One Solitary Leaf Fallen Beneath it

Before, the Hooves of, a Fatigued, Steed

Maybe Time had, Never, Left

But, I’d Not Seen Her at Chang-An, Nor Taipei

The Galaxies on the Posters, in the, Nighttime Skies

My Dreams, Premeditated, an Everlasting Dance

My Daughter Who’d, Left, Did She, Venture from the Life Before, to the Next Life Already

What is She Doing Now

As the Rain Falls, the Pond Pretending to be Asleep

That White-Feathered Bird with Its Wings, Damp, Flew Across the Skies

Those Pieces of Driftwood Stood, on the Distant Mountains

Walking Down the, Unknown Paths, Did She, Hear My Calls Out to Her

From Afar

And so, this, is on death, the narrator had lost his child, and, perhaps, she’d died, just a few days after birth, but, no matter how brief the time the man had with her, he’d, already, loved her very much, and, this poem, is his process of, letting her go.

Seeing You Off

The final passage, remembering the woman whom you’d come to know, as your, mother-in-law, from your father-in-law’s second marriage, translated…

Sitting silent, in the back of the church, on the wooden bench, stared at the white coffin, paved with flowers in the shrine, hearing the pastor slowly, told of your, eighty-two years of colorful life; as the pastor described you as being straightforward, generous, it’d, made me cry, and I’d, lifted up my head and smiled, started recalling the thirteen years of friendships we’d, come to share in life.

It was a snowy day in April in Norway, my husband who’d, planned to be single for the res of his life, drove me in his car, and, came to your door, my father-in-law, and his second wife, you, immediately led us in, and, in a panic, started, preparing the snacks, the coffees to serve to me, an unwelcomed guest.  Back then I wasn’t, fluent in Norwegian, I’d spoken in fluent German with my father-in-law, and, it’d, made you, who lived in the U.S. for over a decade object, that you had difficulties understanding us, and, we’d, realized that we had, excluded you, and immediately, we’d, both started switching to talking in English then.

On Christmas Eve that first year of our marriage, you’d, burst the hopes of your three daughters, sons-in-law, and nine grandchildren’s dreams of family union, you’d come to our home, and, baked for us, the traditional Norwegian pork ribs, meat balls, and sausages, and prepared seven types of pastries.  And, as lucky as I in the first time, I’d, scooped up, the only almond, hidden inside the rice pudding, and received, that special award for piggy almond candy.  Underneath the Christmas tree with the Norwegian flag, were the gifts, stacked up, you, my father-in-law, my husband and I, the four of us, sat around the tree, and started, tearing open the presents, the excitement, the joys, it’d, filled up the house.

The summer that my mother, second aunt, and nephew visited Norway, you’d not just, invited them, you’d also, found your youngest who’s my age, along with your young granddaughter, who’s around the same age as my nephew as company, you’d, set up a wooden board in your yard, with the balloons, and started, shooting the darts.  And even though, it’d rained that day, we’d, still, had a ton of fun; to this very day, my mother still talked of the cherries, the raspberries, and currants you grew in your own yard.

On your seventy-fifth, because your body was, ailing, you’d, delayed your birthday celebration in May, but you’d, not told us flat out, only asked, if we’re available to show up in June.  And, as my husband and I arrived, I’d found, that it was, a family birthday celebration your daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had set up for you; we’d, not brought anything, and we were, embarrassed, but you’d laughed and told, that it was because you didn’t want any presents, that was why, you’d, not told us it was to celebrate your birthday.

illustration from UDN.com

2017 was, especially cruel to you.  First, your best friend who lived in the U.S. died in the spring at the age of over ninety, several months later, it was, my father-in-law, the second love of your life, passed away, in the autumn.  On the evening my father-in-law passed, you, me, and my husband, the three of us, stayed close by his side, until he’d, swallowed his, last breath.  You’d, dragged your, deteriorated health, your, slow steps home; the following day, we took you to the funeral home, to set up my father-in-law’s final affairs, you’d spoken of how you’d, not slept through the night, that you’d, paced around in the living room; even as your kids and grandkids were there, to accompany you, it still, didn’t, take away from your losing your husband.

Within two years after my father-in-law’s funeral, I sat here, in this, same church, heard the same pastor, hosting your funeral.  This pastor was the one who’d, conducted the wedding ceremony of you and my father-in-law thirty years back, he’d retired since, but, two years ago, he’d, made an exception for my father-in-law, spoken on his funeral, and this time, for you too.  You marrying my father-in-law, had once cast a huge shadow for my husband’s not introducing me to his own mother, but, for the eighteen years, the three of you had, died, and all the displeases of the past are now, gone, with the wind.  I’d heard of the news of your death as I’d returned from Egypt, I’d, come, to see you off, I’m so grateful for your kindness toward me, even more grateful, that you were, a “stand-in mother-in-law” to me, giving my families and I, such, wonderful, memories.

And so, this, is on how strong the connections of strangers who became, families are, and this still just showed, how if you’re kind to your daughters or sons-in-law, they will, reciprocate, and love you like you were, their own, parents too.  This is quite rare, to see a stepmother-in-law and a daughter-in-law get along so very well together.

The Air, My Friend

The column by Jimi Liao, translated by me…

The child to the sloth, or, the sloth, to the child…

Let’s take it slow now…………

No matter how quickly the world changes………

Let’s just, take it slow……………

No matter, how worked up others are around us………

We will, continue to, take it slow together………

One day…

Someone will, finally, get us………

Understanding, that slower is faster……

We’re in no rush……………

Slowly, slowly, slower, slower………………

And this, would be how hard you’re all, PUSHING your children, to catch up to your tempos or paces, and by doing that, you’d, deprived your young, of taking their times, to grow UP slow, at their own paces, and, at the same time, you’d, SLAUGHTERED your young children like P-I-G-S, depriving them, of a happy, AND carefree childhood!