The trials of life, hitting hard on this mother-and-son pair here, translated…
A decade ago, I worked as a volunteer at the hospital, and my ride back home in the afternoon, I’d often seen a mother and son pair, very different in height, get on at the malls. The petite mother, with her son, looking like a mountain next to her.
The boy is slow to move around, not talkative at all, seemed a bit developmentally delayed, with a clean set of suspenders on, his shoes, polished, looked like he was, well taken care of. The mother would often whisper to him, like making sure he understood. Slowly, I’d found, that that teenage looking boy, is already, a man in his thirties, being trained for a skill, that his mother would pick him up after school, hoped he could learn things, and find a job, to stop worrying her; the boy just lowered his head and picked at his fingers, don’t know if he’d heard his mom or not.
On a heated afternoon, the mother and son pair waited for the bus at their regular spot, the boy was throwing his temper tantrum, refused to get on the bus, and, just, sat his butt down on the floors; the mother was hurried, and pulled him back up, but, she’d, taken several steps back, to steady herself again. At which time, the driver couldn’t hold it any longer, went to the door, and screamed at the boy, “Your mother worked so hard, taking you to and from school, why are you throwing your tantrums?”, the rest of the passengers on the bus all, chimed in to persuade the man, the boy was probably shocked, and, timidly, got onto the bus. The mother and son sat in front of me, the boy started sobbing gently. After that, I’d never seen them again.
A decade later, they appeared once more, but, changed the location that they got on, the boy was still in suspenders, looked exactly as he did a decade ago, but the mother’s hair was, all white now, hunched back, still nagged into his ears in a low voice, “You’re already in your forties, and still can’t manage to faucets, what will happen to you when I die one day?”, she’d, sighed, then, continued, “If I don’t look after you, something happens, if I look after you too well, then, you can’t do anything on your own, what, am I supposed to do with you?” at which time, the bus stopped, and let out a long whistling sound, like that sigh, that drifted in the dead air.
So, this, is the hardships of life, of having a mentally incapable child, the mother needs to watch out for her young every single day, and, no matter how old the child became, s/he still has the mindset of a young child, and, what would happen, to this man, after his own mother dies? Nobody can know for sure!
Life, the Obstacle Course 