The times we shared…so precious, especially now, more than ever! Translated…
Beneath the gold-rimmed round glasses, the black eyes shone bright, from within the blue mask came the crisp voice, “The usual, two cups of lattes?”, agilely, worked the cash registers, and asked that once-a-week question.
On the cold morning, with both hands on the paper cup, to get some heat in my hands, gone to the park, found a stone bench where the sun can shine, sitting down, the warm sunshine came bathing my face, my body, I’d, taken the plastic lid off for my mother, and the strong aroma of the hot coffee came into the air, it’s a perfect scene, the sun high up in the skies, not a cloud in the skies.
My mother has the tongue of the cat, feared the heat, while dad and I, are both, exactly, the opposite, we’d loved, any and everything that’s, hot. Since I was young, my mother stated how I’d, favored my father more than she, and she’s, absolutely, right, dad was everything to me, but, she too, played, favorites, her favorite is, my younger brother.
In other families, it’s the mother daughter hand-in-hand, shopping for the groceries at the marketplaces, while in my house, it’s my father and I who’d gone. Every Sunday, that tiny traditional marketplace, became an amusement park to us both, we’d gone to the elderly woman’s food stand, to get a serving of soup, of the meatball wrapped in starch; then, headed over to the sugar coated yam stand, and had the stand owner pick out a full lunchbox’s worth of soft as possible yams; that man who’d set up the sugar-cooked chestnut came out, two bags please; the turn of the corner, we need one whole baked chicken please, live fish, to cook in the sweet and sour sauces, the pork tails, chopped, put it into the pot with the peanuts, and slow cook until done………my father’s the chef in the house, excellent skills.
Sunday mornings to the marketplaces became a ritual for me and dad, and, bartering with the vendors for a cheaper price is fun, and, seeing my dad pull the money out of his wallet and paying, that’s, a blessing, begging my dad to buy this or that, is my mindset of I’m still your daughter, a daughter with a father’s, spoiling her, that’s, something to be, proud of. But on that day, he’d still, gone away.
like this…
My mother who’d, kept herself locked up at home, started withering away like a flower, that man with whom she’d walked with for half a century, suddenly, gone now, and her mountain, collapsed, while her days are, out-of-step. My mother who’d hated the scents, the dirty, the stink, never liked going shopping at the local marketplaces when she was younger, and that’s, given me the chance, to shop around with dad, and thankfully, next to the gas station, there’s a supermarket that’s opened up, I’d heard it was a great place to shop around for stuff, so I’d, taken her there.
The sales mart is wide open, the lights, not too bright, not too, dimmed, so many selection of goods, it’s a fine place to take a stroll to, even if we are not looking for something specific, I’d selected a carton of blueberries from Chile with the plain yogurt, a jar of fermented rice wine, a box of handmade dumplings, pushed the cart to the dessert section, forty-off for the layered dark chocolate cakes, if I don’t buy that, then, I would not be doing right for my stomach that enjoyed the sweets.at this time, the announcer came on, “a cup of latte for thirty dollars if you buy $200 worth of goods”. “Mom, what do you say we get two cups to go with the cakes?”, my mother, who’s on a sugar hike couldn’t say no to that. And so, we’d, started, setting up our, weekly rituals like so.
The two cups of latte, started giving off the warmth, the aroma, and seeing how my mother blew into he cup to make the latte cooler before she drank, I’d started, feeling moved, the blue skies, the gentle breeze, the coffee tasted, a bit, sour today for some reasons.
And so, this, is how you cherished the time you are given with your parents, you shopped with your father at the marketplaces, because that’s what he loved to do, and now he’s gone, you’d, found another ritual, to carry it out with your own mother, so you can, take advantage of the time she has, with her, to become, more connected with her as you age.
Life, the Obstacle Course 