What the Textbooks Told Us Not to Do

Things in his childhood years, that extended, into adulthood, although, the reason for him doing what he did was, quite different, translated…

I’d, tiptoed, quietly, into my mother’s kitchen on the back.  Careful, like Bruce Willis in Die Hard, about to, cut the red wire (or the blue), to stop the countdown to the bombs going off, I’d, walked to the vegetable cabinets, opened up that safe that’s, located, deep inside like in the movie, Inception, oh no, it’s, pulling open that drawer, on the left side, and surely enough, my mother’s, dark red wallet made of plastic leather was, inside.  As I was, about to, place the couple thousands of dollars I had in my hand in, just like the cheap, unpredictable scene in the movies, my mother walked to the doorway of the kitchen, asked me, “What, are you doing?”

It’d felt, that that cabinet’s been there, since I was, born.  It’s, made of wood, with that bright green screen door on it, although, it’s, not a high-end redwood piece, but in my memories, other than the screen door needed to be, replaced, it’s, quite, sturdy.  The “vegetable cabinet” it’s, a sort of a respected term for our kitchen cabinets.  In the era where there’s, no refrigerators yet, anything we didn’t finish, whether it be only the breasts of chicken remaining from the whole chicken, the soy sauce with chopped up garlic, all we need is to place them inside that ventilated leftover cabinet, then, it’s, kept so well, it’s like that magical equipment, that gives us, never ending, fresh, leftovers.

Jut like how my mother’s small wallet, there are, always, never spent up changes.  She’d taken the bike out early in the morn, to buy the groceries, and would always, stuffed the loose changes into that wallet, stored it, inside the drawers of the vegetable cabinets, this, to me in the single-digit years, it’s, a trial, of my will.  In school, I was the head of the class.  While at home, I’d, often, done something that the morality lessons taught us never to do in school.

Inside my mother’s coin purse, there are just, those loose changes, small bills, to shop for the groceries with.

I can’t take out the bills.  I must, control my own greed, beside, if I take the bigger bills, I would get caught more easily (it wasn’t until I’m grown, did I discover, that my mother is, a Virgo, paid attention, to the slightest, details!).  Taking the coins only, it’s, safe and I’d have enough to spend.  I get to buy those red pieces of dried mango, the sour green plums, the yellow, cheaper than the noodle treats, along with the soft jelly treats.  The purple strings that came out of those soft jelly treats, resembled that of the long markings that occurred on my calves as a child.

As a child, I’d felt there are, too many things that I couldn’t, understand about the world.  I couldn’t understand, how I’d, gotten caught, just that once, for taking the coins out of, my mother’s coin purse, was it, a technicality issue, or was it, luck?

Once, I’d found, that her small coin purse became, stuffed up.  Maybe, it’s, because the New Year’s approaching.  I’d, wanted to, test what my textbook told us, “have that sense of adventure!”, I’d, taken out a bill, brought home the batmobile I had my eyes on a long time for.  “How did you get this car?”, I’d, gotten over my head, and my mother, found out.

“I’d done well on my exams, my teacher gave it to me!”

That was, such a bad, but effective lie.  It’d made me regret a lot later on.  I think, I must’ve, spent all the lucks I am to have in this lifetime then.

“What are you doing?”, my mother stood by the kitchen door, asked me again.

“Nothing!”, I’d still, acted like that dumb kid I was as a child.

“Thanks, for making a ton of foods whenever we’d come home to visit, like you’re, preparing the banquets to treat the family for the New Year’s, I’m just, putting some grocery money in is all”, these are, the words, I’d, kept to myself, and not said to my mother.

And so, this, stemmed from his childhood, how he’d, stolen from his mother’s wallet, and, now as an adult, he’d still, gone through his mother’s wallet, only, only that as adult, he was, putting the extra money in, not because his mother needed it, but because, it’s, how thoughtful this man is!