Wednesday afternoon. A nice cooling day after a pouring rain in the morning.
I was at ease after brunch, enjoying the thick but interesting book "Dog Stories" by James Herriots in the comfy of my bed with Snowie beside me until a din broke out in the living room, wrecking the peaceful silence. My divided conscience gave a summary of the commotion outside. It was between my mother and my brother.
Always.
It had always been like that whenever my mother is around in the house. Even before the din, she had come into my room, not just once or twice, to give a long nagging lecture on this and that, intruding into my story. At that moment, it seemed that I had suddenly been transformed into an actress or whatsoever. I had to act ignorant, otherwise, my patience will definitely give way. It has its limit. It would do nothing good for the both of us, or at least to me. Tolerance had also become part of the main cast behind the scene, since donkey years ago. No one promises that this will be easy. The same goes to my brother, who practises more patience and tolerance than me.
Before I knew it, my brother stormed into my room and shouted in a rage,"If I got money, I'll go out and never come back!" With this, he fled into his room, banging the door behind him. He seemed rather annoyed. My brother is a nice person by nature, and his patience has always been limitless to me. In another words, it is hard to see him flying in a rage. He is definitely not making an orgy out of nothing. He is damn serious. He is bloody angry. And I mean it.
My mother, of course, did not realize this and she made the matter worse by saying all her unreasonable stuffs when she heard what my brother had said. "Right." I was thinking. "Only you, yourself, are always right." Even my good-tempered brother is so pissed off at you and you are still always the ever-right person in the whole wide world. I wasn't angry at her or whatsoever(Maybe abit?). What I mean is No One is Right ALL THE TIME. She just doesn't get it. She always expect us to think that she is right all the time. She argued with us the minor things in the world. You mean those minor stuffs are more precious than kinship and family ties in the whole wide world? You must be kidding, my mother.
I felt so "injusticed" and sorry for my brother although sometimes I myself also got into this kind of conflicts with her. I tried speaking up for my brother. And what do I get in the end?? I got myself involved and she started saying,"Ni ye shi lah!(You are also like that lah!)" So much for clearing the air between them.
This is so ironic. She doesn't want us to be away from home all the time yet she destroys the peace when we are at home. If you want warmth at home, why create a din? How would you expect us to feel at home? Then, would we wanna be at home if home is such a place? This is exactly what my brother meant. "If I got money, I will go out and never come back!". Simple words and sentence, but it speaks more than what the surface means.
And if you are wondering what they are quarrelling about, it is just over a bowl of green bean soup. Yes, tini winy stuff like that. I wouldn't wanna go into the exact details of the story though. It is the usual cliche of my mother.
Cheers to the bowl of green bean soup. I think it is the ultimate winner and spectator of the whole "match". You win. But come to think of it, kinship losing to a bowl of green bean soup? It just sux. Big time.
Unhappy and mentral-cramped Jean signing off.
