The memories of you, getting punished by your mother, those, were, the harder times in your life, but, you’d still, passed through it, and grew up, translated…
As My Mother Returned Home from Doing the Laundry by the Creeks, She Saw the Stove that’s Already Out, without a Second Word, She’d, Picked Up a Broomstick, and as I Saw, I Ran Away, Very Quickly…………
The Days After My Father Ran Off
It was, 1965, I was in the third grade, when my father, ran off, the six of us children, my two older brothers continued going to school, my two older sisters were sent into the factories to work to help provide for the family, and I, took care of what’s going on in and outside of the house. Back then, my mother worked as a laundry lady, and normally, I’d, gone to the houses, to pick up the loads, I’d needed to, walk for two hours’ round-trip; there was no faucet inside our home, I’d needed to, get the water from over a hundred meters away, and fill up the pots once, in the morning and once in the evening. And on top of that, there are, never-ending, countless, household chores, that I was, made to handle, and on the weekends, I’d had to, help my mother out with the laundry loads by the creek side too.
Every Friday night, my mother would remind me again, “After school, come and help out with the laundry by the creek.” And so, as the classes let out, I’d, gone over to the creek, to help her with the laundry loads in the midst of my own hunger. Normally, by the time I’d arrived, my mother had already managed all the bigger items, the smaller ones, were all mine to do. And still, there was, no trees, to give any shades in the heat of the summers, the sun would often, hurt my shoulders, but there was nothing I can do, I can only, take that needed dip into the creek, to relieve my aches and pains temporarily; in the winters, the scorching sun was gone, came the icy, cold winds, the wind blew so hard, it’d, cracked up my lips, and hurt my face then.
from the papers…
And, no matter the seasons or the days, I’d worked hard, but, the household economics just, can’t seem to get better, and my mother became, more and more easily angered. One day, my mother was cooking on the stove, asked me to bring a fan by to keep the fire going, but, no matter how hard I’d waved the fan, the fire still won’t continue to stay lit. And, as my mother came home from doing the laundry, she saw how the fire was out, without another word, she’d, taken the bamboo broom up, and, I just, took off, running fast.
The two of us, who’d not had any foods in our stomach, we’d become, too hungry to even, lift a finger, but, in order, to whip her daughter for not keeping the stoves going, my mother became, so energetic, chased after me; my mother who’s only 4’9, can easily, catch me, who was, 3’6, but, I’d not wanted, to become totally, severely, punished, I’d always run into the smaller alleys, as she’d extended her hands in, and, I’d, run, quickly, into another alleyway. In a panic, I’d not counted the total number of smaller alleys I’d run in and out of, and finally, I’d, escaped my mother’s punishing hands.
My Better Times of Staying Away from Home
When my mother was angered, she couldn’t possibly get defused, if I don’t let her beat me up. So, I’d chosen, to escape home for a bit, to hide out away from home.
I’d first, gone to a classmate’s, her mother sold fruits in front of the temple, and, there would usually be nobody around her house, and there were only, those too ripened bananas, scattered, all over the floors of her home. I’d found a few, took off the rotten portions, and, made it into my lunch, and afterwards, I’d, gone to my other classmate’s to hang out, and that evening, I’d returned to the friend, whose mother was a fruit vendor to sleep. I’d gone to stay at a different friend’s house every single day, and, I’d realized, that all the parents were all, working hard, to make ends meet, but, they’d still had the energies, to pat their own young on the head, to give their children a ton of love, to joke with them, to inquire about how their lives are going, and through these smaller acts, it’d shown how much they loved their own young. And my mother, would always be overcome with sorrows and anger, as the heavy burdens from the household economy pressed down hard on her.
not my photo…
Those days, were the best times during my elementary school years, I’d become, so free every single day, just, wandered, but, I’d felt, uneasy: how will my mother be able to handle it, if I’d, just, abandoned all of my duties?
On the third day, I’d, decided, to check back home, stood, a hundred meters away, gazing. And, in just a few days, my mother became, even, skinnier, with dust and dirt, covering her face. As my mother saw me, she was, without the angers, “So, you knew where your home is!”, she’d pointed toward the stove, still spoke in that tone of hardness, “look, for the three days you weren’t here, I still had one bowl of rice porridge left.”
I’d handled all the work, once again, and, the days, passed normally, until my mother got angered again, and I’d, run off fast………this sort of repetitiveness, continued for two more years, and by then, I’m taller, and my mother can no longer, catch up with me.
That day, I ran toward the entryway of our alley, I’d heard my mother’s voice, trailing behind me, “Stop running, I won’t punish you anymore!”, standing there, at the entrance of the alley, I thought for a bit, and, confirmed what I’d heard, started, looking, from the small alley I was, hiding in, my mother stood, at the front of the house, with the bamboo stick hanging, as she saw me, she’d, repeated herself, “I won’t hit you anymore!”
After so much time, my mother finally, stopped, pushing the daughter who’d stayed close to her by the hard times farther, and farther off, and my days of skipping home had, finally, come, to an end.
So, due to the hardships of life, you’d, taken your upset out on your own young, and yeah, being a single parent IS hard, but that still doesn’t give you the right, to FUCKING take it out on your child, I mean, she’s the one, who was there, cooking, cleaning, when you’re out, working, she’d taken up YOUR job, and just because she forgot one little task once, you’d, punished her so severely that she’d escaped home, what kind of a mother are you??? And yet, this mother realized something, and finally, decided, to NOT physically punish her daughter when she didn’t do as she was told…the mother finally, “grew up”!
running away from home here, not my photograph still…
Life, the Obstacle Course 