As Presbyopia Came Knocking

A very apparent SIGN of AGING! There’s NO denying that! Translated…

Awhile ago, I had a gathering with my best friends, the group of us, young cougars of around forty became chatterboxes, it’s, as if, we’d, turned back the hands of time to way back when, when we were, still, upbeat, college students.

As the waiter came with the menus, we all started, flipping through the pages, it wasn’t that the dishes weren’t any good, but the gift of presbyopia, brought on by the years. Starting last year, I’d had troubles, reading the smaller prints and couldn’t follow the lines I was reading through, although I’d known, it was, presbyopia, that it was, “normal”, I couldn’t help, but feel that loss. Ling, who’s an elementary school teacher said, that as she called roll now, she’d often, misread her students’ names, and the students who didn’t know her better thought, that she was, bad at Chinese. This was nothing that Ling, who’d held herself in high regards could put up with. From before she’d thought it’d made her look old, but, she’s planning on getting a pair of reading glasses during the upcoming holiday.

not my photograph…

Li, who helps her husband in business, claimed that she shall follow Ling’s lead, turns out, she’d written one less 0’s when she’d sent a wire-transfer, and afterwards she’d gone to the manufacturer’s with a gift basket to apologize, and she was, nagged, for days on end by her mother-in-law and husband. “We must, admit we’re, aging now!”, that, was what she’d, figured.

Wen, who’s in the technology industries felt, that presbyopia isn’t that scary, that, keratoconjunctivitis sicca was, the “common cold” at her workplace. “What’s the scariest is macular lesions!” Turns out, many of the workers in her industry were nearly blind from macular lesions which was why Wen overlooked the troubles brought on by presbyopia. “I’m getting by presbyopia fixed by laser!”, Chien, who’d been trendy with the fashion news, while for us, laser, in our knowledge, only treated nearsightedness she’d already, “evolved” to getting the surgery done, she’d believed that presbyopia will make her frown as she tried to see things, adding to the wrinkles, and so, despite how costly the procedure is, she was still, willing, to give it a shot.

When we were in our twenties, we couldn’t imagine ourselves at thirty, and yet, in a blink of an eye, we’d found presbyopia on our front steps. Recalling way back, my best friends and I would sing, “The most romantic thing I can think of, is to grow old with you slowly…”, back then, we’d carried that romanticism to hearing the song, and now, this song emphasized how wonderful, having long-time friends can be, being able to enjoy growing old with a bunch of friends, I suppose, is, a romantic thing, that only those who reached midlife can enjoy.

like this???  Not my photograph still…

So, with you getting older, everything is slowly changing, your metabolism slows down, you can’t see clearly, and, there are, a lot of other physical changes that are happening to you, but, if you stay young at heart, and have a group of friends who will offer you the support when you need, then, there’s nothing scary about getting older…

A Place by the River

There’s a place by the river I usually go, to enjoy my needed peace and quiet, but as I’d gone there recently, I’d found, NO peace, or quiet, instead, there was, just C-H-A-O-S! A place by the river, that’s known, to NOBODY ELSE but me, and now, it’s, “contaminated”, by you.

A Place by the river I can go, to find some peace and quiet, and now it’s gone, because, you’d found it, and, became, an unwelcomed guest here. A place by the river, oh, how I miss it, I used to be able to find peace here, not so long ago, but now, it looked, like a warzone!

the look of peace AND quiet…NOT my photograph…

A place by the river, oh I miss it, it’s lost, and I can’t, get it back again, EVER! A place by the river, I longed to be, that was a place, the ONLY place, where my innocence was kept safe, untouched, and now, it’d been, contaminated by you…

A place by the river, how can I, find my way back, into those wonderful memories, of my better days past again? Guess, guess that, I’ll, just, have to, keep searching, or that place by the river, deep, inside my memories then…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Braiding My Hair

from the papers…髮事

How a daughter remembers the love of her mother, translated…

My mother when she was younger, had full volume of hair, and great hair type too, and using the older descriptions of “Fluffy as the clouds, and radiating”, is an understatement. Especially right after she’d washed it, she’d blown dry her hair, her hair became fluffy and soft, smelled scented, with that wooden comb of hers, brushing it a couple of times, it’d shined like the silky fabrics.

My mother loved clipping an assortment of bows and clips onto her hair, she’d especially loved the colors of the grasses, snow white, black, as well as the maple’s red, those felts, beads, or cubic zirconia bow hairnets, it’d made my mother’s soft and fluffy head of hair behind her even more beautiful; she’d put on the clothes, along with her pearls, it’d always made me stared, I thought, she was, the MOST beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

As my mother finished getting her hair fluffed, it came my turn. I sat on the small stool before her, watched with concentration, my mother used the pointy tip of the comb, separated my hairline, then, grabbed a handful, used the hair clip to keep it in place. I took after my mother, my hair was dense and black to a shine. If we had enough time in the mornings, my mother would braid my hair well, whether it be French braids, ponytail, or buns, my mother could do. After she was done, I’d, looked at my own reflection excitedly in the mirrors, felt very proud. And, my female classmates were all in awe of me, “Your braids and clothes look beautiful.”, my mother, who had great fashion sense, had made me the envy of my peers.

It’s just, that before work, she’d needed to, fix the breakfasts, and do my hair, my mother became impatient from time to time, and, as she was, brushing my hair down, she’d, pulled a bit hard, and it’d, hurt me. At that time, I’d not known how much pressure from the family she was carrying, just simply thought, that my mother, with a pair of wonderful hands, can screw up too, with uneven ponytails, slanted braids, and sometimes, messy hair style. At the worst, my mother couldn’t find the time to brush my hair, and I can only, head to school, with my messy head of hair; my good friend, Jing-Jing loved holding my braids and playing with it, saw how rare it was, for me, to come to school without my hair done, she’d come and taken my hand and asked, “Did you, anger your mom?”

an assortment of styles, photo from online…

Now, recalling how much duress my mother had been under, she’d worked on my hair almost every single day, I’d felt that I was, more than blessed.

With the coming of age, my mother’s hair was, no longer black like coal, she’d cut her long hair short, and, she’s losing more and more hair too, those shiny decorations she’d put on her hair, no more. But, one day when I was cleaning up the house, I’d found, that strand of silvery gray on her comb, I’d felt that surge of warmth, passing through my heart.

It’s as if, I saw butterflies, dancing around, stopping at the ends of her hair.

So, this, is the time of your childhood that you’d, cherished the most, because your mom took so much time and care, to braid your hair, and, it’d become, a prominent memory, because it’d showed how much she cared for and loved you.

An Assortment of Entrees for Lunch

Memories of our youthful days, translated…

During middle school, my lunch would always get taken by my classmates, and so, I’d started behaving like an animal instinctively, I’d hidden my entrée into my pockets, and find myself a safe hiding place, and then, eat it.

The BEST spot was the stairways that leads up to the roof. With the doors locked, the sun seeped through the crease of the door, illuminated onto the dusts, I’d sat alone on the steps, and chewed down on the no-longer-crisp fried chicken pieces, although I was, all alone, but, it was, the best time I’d, gotten to share, with my own chicken legs.

because we want some privacy, now, go AWAY!!!  Not my photo…

One day at lunch, my classmates were, checking out my lunch, “Hey, how come you stopped bringing the entrées these past couple of days, you on a diet or something?”, I’d smiled and told, “Yup, I’m, on a diet!”, and, my classmate left, disappointed, and sought out someone else’s lunch. As the lunch hour was about to be up, I’d washed up my eating utensils, and, carried that quarter leg toward the staircases without anybody else’s notices.

Although the light still, seeped through the doors, and the dusts became like those planktons floating in the oceans, I’d still, stealthily, made my way, up the stairs, ahhhh, there were, TWO people, hiding behind the doors, with their lips locked, hearts beating as one. And, at that very moment, I’d, realized, that I’d fallen, far behind, on my puberty developments, turns out, there is, ANOTHER better-tasting entrée than the quarter legs that one needs to hide away to savor.

this, is precisely W-H-Y the individual felt compelled to hide her/his lunch, not my photograph…

So, this would be, your very FIRST encounter of what love is, and because you’d worried too much about your lunch food being stolen, that, was what you’d, kept an eye out for, until, you’d bumped into those two people who were, making out at that secretive location that you’d hidden yourself in, to eat your lunch, some discovery there!

 

 

 

 

I Look Out My Window…

I look out my windows, saw nothing, but the woods, and, I think about you. It’d been, how long ago, since we were together??? Ages, no, wait, it felt like, EONS!

I look out my windows, and saw the rain, crying her tears hard, and, drop, by drop, her tears hit against my window, clink, clink, clink, and, it’d come, faster, and faster, faster, until, I hear, NOTHING but the sound of thunder against my window panes.

not my photogarph…

I look out my windows, and saw you, or rather, it must’ve been the GHOST of you, my child, for, you’re, NO longer in existence, you’d, DIED, and, I became, withdrawn, in this rocking chair I used to, rock you at night in, and, everything became, a blur………

I look out my windows, thought I saw you standing there, but, I knew, that that, was my eyes and mind, playing tricks on me, because, you’re NO more, I just wish, you’d, leave me alone, for good now, but, you don’t!!!

not my animation…

I look out my windows, there was, NOTHING to see, NOTHING to feel, thank G-O-D, I’m finally, NUMB………

 

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh, Don’t, Make a Sound

From a blog in Chinese I’m subscribed to, translated, by me…

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, don’t, make a sound.

The Flickering of the Lights in the Night

Was Like This Heaviness in the Hearts

Becoming More Apparent & Lucid

In the Nighttime

Slowly, Savor Your Thoughts

what it’d looked and felt like, NOT my photograph…

That Shadow that’s, Without a Word

Seemed, So, Familiar

If, I’d, Exposed My Thoughts in My Eyes

Then, Please, Don’t Ask Me

If I Miss You or Not

So, as the night came in, you feel, lonelier, than during the daytime, because all the hustles and bustles of the day had, quieted, and now, it’s just, you, along with your own feelings and thoughts, keeping you company…

 

 

 

Neat Freak

Changes are in order, because of your age, translated…

I’m just, a neat-freak, without the why!

Whenever I saw dust bunnies on the floor, it’s like, that needle in my eye, I’d felt, compelled, to rid of it. My husband always joked, “You’re so narrow-minded, can’t even have a grain of sand close to you”, while my son stated, “You can see something so small, and you say you have eye problems?”, and all I can say about it, is that the things I should see, I just, don’t, while the things that should be ignored, I’d paid close attention to.

yup, that, is what you look like all right…NOT my picture…

There are so many rules of my cleanliness. After I’d come home from the salons, I’d changed my outfit completely; as I arrived home from the hospitals, I’d totally needed to, head into the showers, to wash myself off; the door handles in public, I’d, needed to use a tissue before I open and close it; the towels provided by the hotels, I’d dared not use, I’d needed to, take my own towels on trips. And, as I’d washed my hands, I’d washed them over, over, and over again, until I feel, that they’re, completely cleaned off. I have, so many knickknacks that I’d, lost count of them all now.

As for the kitchen counters, the dinner table or the floors at home, I can’t stand to see any stains. Before breakfast, if I saw breadcrumbs or coffee stains, I’d needed to wipe it all off, before I can find my appetite. But, I knew that this, was unnecessary, I could well just, finishing eating and clean it all together, but, I couldn’t cope with it, and, I’d needed to, do it in secrecy, worrying that my family might see me, and they’d hollered back, “I did wipe the tables!”

Recalling how when I lived in the dorms in college, several times as I was tidying up my room, my coins fell out of my purse, and, I’d picked them all up, took them to the sink and washed them, and my roommate exclaimed, “Wow! I’d never seen anybody wash their change before!”, and because of that, I was selected as the cleaning guard that year.

and, this, would be when you wish you had, extra arms, wouldn’t you???  Not my photo…

Don’t’ know if it’s a good habit, or that I’d brought it on myself, I just, can’t seem to, change my habits. Actually, I’d, struggled with myself too. Sometimes, I’d played that game of tug-of-war with myself, but in the end, my neat-freak side won out.

And now, as I got older, I’d not had enough energies, and, felt a bit powerless toward my OCD clean symptoms. And so, I’d, needed to, adjust my own mind, to remind myself constantly: to RELAX, to NOT be stubborn, just IGNORE that it’s there, so I can, get from day to day with more ease.

So, this, is the results of having OCD, from before, you would clean like crazy, and now, you would too, save that you’re not as strong as you used to be, because you’re older, and, because you couldn’t do as much around the house, so, you’re, slowly, learning, to adapt to the little bit of mess that you see around you…