Reunion

As the eve of chinese new year was before us.

3 of us sat around the small rectangular table, a platter of food fit for ten people was laid before us.

As mother was saying grace. I took a quick glance and noticed how much my parents aged.

One became frail and wrinkled, another worn out and slowed.

Myself, grown up.

How things have changed.

The dinner did not last long, the reunion was short lived, soon left just both mother and I, talking away about how good the food was.

Mother took it upon herself to clean everything up, and all i could do was thank her and watched as she packs things one by one away, returning to the life before the reunion dinner.

Her worn out eyes has seen a lot in life, and yet, a lot of things in life eludes her.

The bigger things she longs to enjoy may not come to her in this life, so she is happy with the little things - movies to watch, presence of grandson, the chatter among family members, gardening and current time gadgets that sometimes are beyond her comprehension.

This is the life of mother, a woman who had ambitious dreams when she graduated from high school, who found disappointment when her conservative mother forbade her to further her studies overseas in fear of her never returning to her homeland.

A woman who could have been successful in every aspect of life, unwillingly remained behind, working jobs after jobs, until she was married.

Bore two child, raised them up almost singlehandedly as her husband strove outside to make ends meet.

In a blink of an eye, 27 years has passed since then. Still trying to stretch the dollar. Still raising her kids even though they had already grown up.

The money she saved always ends up for the family, all those longing for travelling seems to disappear as time goes by.

Who knows how long will this continue? Who is to say that the mold cannot be broken?

A few things came across my mind: is she happy? Could at any point did she wish she could turn back time and start over?

As the clock struck midnight, subtly indicating the new year has dawn upon us, she opened the wooden door to my room, as i was holding my guitar, sitting on my bed, i noticed her eyes again, the little satisfaction that she was still able to give me a red packet, containing money which i do not need from her anymore. Money that i was supposed to give her and not take. She lied. She said that the two red packets are from her and father. But i know that the money was from her, and she is preserving what is left of a tradition which she is so accustomed to. I smiled and accepted, knowing that refusal would mean disrespect.

Thus begins a new year, a chinese one at that.

I kept the red packets aside, knowing that i will probably not use it.

What used to be a source of money for the new year has now been relegated to be a symbolic gesture, one that so few understand about.

This year, i am glad that it is unlike any other chinese new year.