Conversation of a father and his son here, on the, many, “flavors” of, life, translated…
I: Can you, get through all the different “tastes” of life?
Summer: Surely I can!
I: Plums?
Summer: I often had that! I can actually, swallow in a slice of lemon too!
I: Chocolates?
Summer: Aren’t all chocolates, edible?
I: How about bitter melon?
Summer: back when we visited Beijing, didn’t you say, that I have bitter melon every day?
I: then, how about chili peppers?
Summer: yep, surely can do……………
Looking back to this conversation, I’d often imagined, what was happening then, to open up this, random, out-there conversation with Summer as he was only a young child?
As the records of FB showed, that was the day before Chinese New Years in 2015. Summer went home with me and his mother, to our, hometown. On New Year’s Eve day, in the tiny salon in town, my mother still busied herself around with all the other hairstylists. Before the New Year’s, the ladies would go there to get their hairdos made up, perms, dyeing, to cover up the whites, hoping, that they look pretty and dolled up for the brand new, year. My mother often worked until the moment before our New Year’s Eve meal, and, pushed that final customer out of the salon, showered quickly, then, rushed to the family gatherings at the restaurants.
Summer who was too young, to understand the concepts of waiting, became, a bit, antsy. As the Indonesian nurse’s aide found these tiny changes in his means, she’d smiled, and took two plates of purple, and red sweets out, for me to treat Summer to them. I’d asked about them, she’d made them, desserts from Indonesia, like the, jelly. Then I’d, placed the whole plate on the tables, and pushed it toward Summer. He was instantly, attracted to the bright transparent colors of reddish purple then. Until the Indonesian aide sliced up a piece, took that first bite, and made a face, Summer then smiled and asked, is it sour? She’d nodded, and continued stating so. About this time, I’d, made a statement, and started up this, out-of-no-where discussion topic, also, I’d made fun of Summer, can you handle all the sourness, all the bitterness, the spicy, and the sweetness of life?
The Summer back then, he wouldn’t have understood, what these, various “flavors” have to do with life, but, with his driving curiosities, I’d, challenged him, and, he would, leapt through the fire, at any dare I gave to him. He’d, taken that tiny bite first, then, it showed, how he liked that sourer tastes of things, but the following second, he’d, played pretend, it was, too, sour for him, but he’d still, swallowed it, as a challenger, so funny, and odd. It’d made the Indonesian nurse’s aide laughed too, she’d cut up another plate of something else, and brought it upstairs for my father.
The New Year’s Eve supper that night, my father still sat in his wheelchair, and with the Indonesian nurse’s aide helping him to eat. We were, a full table, gathering with other relatives we have. And, the gathering got more and more full by the year, more joyous by the years too. After supper, I’d accompanied my father home with Summer by my side first. After a night out, his old body showed signs of fatigue, after I’d set the leftover in the fridge, I’d gone with the Indonesian nurse’s aide, helped my father up the stairs, then, told of the happenings of the days that come next. After we’d set up the plans, Summer and I then, returned to my mother’s apartment, not too, far away.
Before we left my father’s home, I’d asked Summer to hug my father, like how he’d, hugged me goodbye as he went off to school on the school buses. And, it was during that time, I’d asked Summer, to hug the Indonesian nurse’s aide that helped take care of my father when we say goodbye too, as a goodbye ritual. Summer discussed with me, that hugging to say goodbye, was only fitted with the loved ones, and friends we are attached to, why he needed to hug the nurse’s aide too? I’d replied back to Summer, she lives with grandpa, for many years on end now………helped us look after him, she’s, family to us too.
And so, Summer started, learning to hug. To this very day, we’d still, carried forth this ritual of ours—the embrace of one another, after we part. Every time Summer went home with me, before he left, he would, hug my mother tightly, along with my younger sister too.
I couldn’t know for sure, if as the Indonesian nurse’s aide watching Summer eat the sweets, was she, reminded of the children she has back home too, that’s why she’d, smiled on like a mother. But, those plates of purplish red sweets, was made with the flavors of her own, life. The sour, the sweet, the bitter, the spicy, seemingly plain, easy to take in too, but other than that, there’s, nothing, but the hardships of one’s life.
The lives, written with these, four different flavors, hadn’t been at all easy, to get past. I’d not expected Summer to get it with one taste. From his replies of, the chili pastes will do, I know, that he had yet to understand, the sweetness, the sourness of that plate of Indonesian dessert, I’d, believed, that he’d, never understood the trials of my life either. But I hope, that at least, he got a first taste, and maybe, he will, better understand, the trials of others in life by it.
And so, this, is on empathy, how the man tries to teach his own son to feel what others are feeling, but the child is way too young to get it, and, empathy is not established overnight, it’s, an “acquired taste”, that we will finally have, from our years of, experiences, and watching others live their lives’ ups and downs too.
Life, the Obstacle Course 