Forgotten, in Time

Traumatized, as a young child, when her mother left her, to go shopping on her own, translated…

The four-year-old young girl, Yaya, is the daughter of a friend, after she was born, she’d, stayed, briefly with us; and now, she’d, come visiting every now and then, and often asked me, to show the footages I’d captures of her childhood often, she was, very curious, of that tiny little thing with a pacifier in her mouth, crawling all over my house.

Some say, that the earliest memories that humans have, are from age three, I’m glad, of all of these, footages, to let Yaya know, that she was, very cherished since she was a newborn child.

My eighty-six-year-old mother, because of osteoporosis, became immobilized, other than going to the hospitals for the scheduled checks, she’d, rarely, left the house.  Once after she went to see the doctors, she thought, that she may not be out for a long, long time, we’d, worked real hard, to persuade us, to take her out for a meal, and out of our expectations, my mother said okay, and pointed to a very delicious restaurant up ahead, led me into the shops.

I’d followed the roads, pushed her into the narrowed alleys, “where is the restaurant at this location?”, I’d started, wondering to myself, and felt, that the road I took my mother on, was, familiar, as I’d pushed her on, we’d, arrived at the Chenggong Marketplace after the reconstructions.  “Go in!  There’s, that delicious rice noodle soup shop inside!”, my mother urged.

illustration UDN.com

As the owner saw us, she’d came over towards us, and, took my mother’s hands in hers, “How come I hadn’t seen you for so long?  Last time you were able to, walk here, slowly, and how come you’re in a wheelchair now?”, as my mother settled down in her chair, she’d told me, “there’s a chicken stand that serves the best chicken, it’s about to close, go, get some.”  I’d followed her order, strolled around the marketplace, and yet, couldn’t find it, and I can, only head back to ask my mother.  From afar, I saw my mother, sitting by the stands, with the hot rice noodle soup and the appetizers already served, but she’d, not moved her chopsticks, instead, she’d, looked around, like she was, searching, for some, lost memories, that look of unsettlement, it’d, reminded me of how I was, fifty years back, sitting exactly where she was sitting.

Before the reconstructions, the Chenggong Marketplace was at the depth of the alley on Si-Wei Road there was a big tree at the entrance of the streets, the May’s Rice Noodle Stands was located, right underneath the huge tree, I’d carried that longing, for the marketplaces as a young child, with the assortments of new, odd things, the tastes, the scents, calling out to me, but during that era, when time IS money, who would be willing, to take a kid to stroll the streets so leisurely?  Several times, I’d finally gotten the chance to follow my mother to the markets, she’d, left me, in front of the rice noodle soup stand, ordered up a bowl for me, told me, “you sit here, and behave yourself, after mommy’s done shopping, I’ll, come and pick you back up.”, then she had, greeted the owner, and then, left me.

Back then I was only five, or six, without my mother close by, even if the rice noodles were delicious, I couldn’t, enjoy it at all, what’s more important was, my mother hadn’t paid yet.  Being young, my mind kept wondering, will mom come back?  What if she didn’t?  I’d never dared disclosed how I’d felt about it to my mother, after all, in that era of time, silence, and being able to keep everything bottled up, is the way, a child grows up into being.

I came to again, picked up the phones, and used my camera, took a few shots secretively, like putting a halt, to these, bitter tasted memories.  But I’m thinking, I shall, NEVER mention this memory to my mother still.

This, may not have been a big deal at all to any adult in the world, but to a young child, it’d, impacted the writer a whole lot, that feeling of being abandoned by her mother, the fear, of being unwanted, unloved, it’d, stayed in the narrator’s mind, and she still, hadn’t forgotten, even AS her mother is in her elderly years.  The impacts of childhood on all of us, more severe than ANY of you, FUCKING STUPID parents can, EVER imagine!