The Room that’s Filled Up with the Feel of Home

A mother who’d never been there when you were growing up, and you’d, realized that the painting you’d made was only, make-believe, translated…

“Ahhhhhhhhhh, I’d, forgotten, something”, sitting in the car, I suddenly, recalled.

“What is it?”, dad inquired.

“nothing, it’s no big deal”.

I’d forgotten, to tear that painting off.

Fifteen days ago, I entered into the quarantine hotel.  After I’d finished my work abroad, after thinking long, I’d still, decided, to return back to Taiwan, after all, this is an era, when travels don’t feel like an adventure anymore.  The hotel room had everything in it, the quilt, soft and fluff, the T.V. channels, all there, it’s just, that the spaces are, cramped, in front of the T.V., there’s only room for me to walk for exercise, the rest of the space, are for walking across, to and from.

The first two days, I’d spent in the jet lag, drowsiness.  Sometimes, I’d, video chatted with dad, still that same yellow jacket in the color of the markings of the road that he’d worn, I’d told him, I’d wondered what was happening to the cacti, then, he’d, turned the screen to the balcony to show me, and they were all, showing off their glows, with the last ray of the sun coming from their backs, oh, how I wanted to, pinch them.

I’d suspected that the air-conditioning was malfunctioning, starting on the fourth day of my stay, I can’t help but keep shivering on.  Switched from twenty-six to twenty-eight degrees, didn’t make much difference.  I’d started moving around, to exercise a bit, and after I sweated it all out, it’d felt, even, colder.  There was a memory of me when I was quite young, lying on the bed at home, and I just kept, quivering on; my mother sat by my bed, like the textbook stated: took my temperature, wiping the sweat away, feeding me the water, stayed up all night long to look after me.  And the feel of that chill from being ill from way back when, was coming back to me now.

Day six, other than the temperature of the room that’s off, I’d begun worrying about work.  I’d opened up the files of my job outlook offers, deleted them, plus, on the west side of where I was, came the scent of cigarette, and the screams that came suddenly from the east side of where I was staying, the juices of anxiety came overflowing out of the tub, seeping up into the entire room, and all I could do was to climb up onto that window that’s high up, and, stuck out my hands, and yet, I can only get that tiny bit of sunshine.  Ahhhhhh, warmth.

illustration from UDN.com

I’d asked the deliveryman to bring me the art materials, the papers, and at first, I’d started drawing out the suns, and, I’d, plastered them onto the wall as I finished each one, but, I’d drawn five, still, not that much change.  So I’d, thought about other things that might get me warmed up, and so, the kitchen of my parents’ home in the afternoon, the lanai of my parents’ home, all came into, view.  Much better now.  By day eight, I’d, drawn my mother, pasted her next to the bed underneath that lamp.  Since I became adult, my mother formally left home, and only maintained in contact on the holidays.  But the way she’d looked after me, was clear as ever, and, I’d, finally gotten out of my quarantine period, keeping that thought of home in my mind.

On the return back, I’d mentioned how I’d remembered falling ill.  And she’d confirmed that I had, gotten ill, that I was, in a panic, but she wasn’t, actually, present in my life by then.

“ahhhh, you were only three years old when that had happened, but, before you were five, it’d been just you and me then.”, I’d fallen silent, for a long, long while.

“Pull over, dad, pull over!”

I’d leapt back out of the car, ran like crazy, found the MRT station, took the cab, rushed back to that quarantine hotel, disregarded the check-in counter, rushed over, grabbed the picture I’d sketched of my mother, torn it all up to pieces.

Not long thereafter, dad arrived too.  I’d found, that the jacket he was wearing, was dusted, but with that, warmth of a yellow glow, the color of goose feathers.

And so, you’d realized that you’re mother was the absentee parent in your childhood, and you’d, longed for her to care for you, but she wasn’t there to look after you, and you’d, held that image of her tender love and care towards you, to carry you through your fourteen days of quarantine, then, you’d realized, that it was all, a lie.