My Mother, Going Home to Visit Her Family, Memories of the Childhood Years


As they’d voted on the officials to represent the neighborhood that year, because my father’s cheating, I’d become, the tag along, the guard for my mother as she’d gone back to visit her own household.  My older brother was still angered about how our family lost the votes, I’d already dressed myself up, waited, for my mom to get ready.

I’d tilted my head, couldn’t understand why mom was dressing herself up.  The dress she’d taken out of her closet had a mixture of smells of the mothballs, and the scent of the wooden dresser drawer; my mom who’d rarely smiled, at this time, had flashed her radiant smiles two, three times, and I’d, caught that.  “Mom, you’re going to visit grandma, are you happy?”  my mother didn’t answer, just smiled on, radiantly.

After she’d brushed through her thinning hair, the most important moment came, she’d put her gloves on, and, took out her pantyhose carefully, from the silk handkerchief it was wrapped in, and, that was, when the skin-colored pantyhose came flying down, and that scene looked like heaven to me.  The pantyhose was given to mom from my auntie’s trip to Japan, and, during the era where everything is lacking, I really can’t tell, how long it’d taken my mother, to finally put on those pantyhose, to go home to visit her mother?

In my doubt, she’d finally, put on her pantyhose, she’d pulled them to her thighs, looked herself sideways in the mirrors, to see if they were straightened on her legs.  I’d used the word, “doubt”, because I couldn’t understand why my mother put on her gloves, before she put on her pantyhose, and after she’s done getting dressed, she’d, taken her gloves off.  At that young, how can I understand, that because of handling ALL the chores in the house, my mother’s originally silky smooth, soften hands had, turned to rough and calloused, that without the gloves, she may well make tears on the pantyhose, and it would take money, to send them out, to get mended up.  Until I’d finally understood why my mother did what she had, it was, many years since I’d left home, and recalling, I’d felt, so ashamed, for not realizing the hardships of my mother’s life, I’d felt so awful.

from the papers…

Next came her, putting on the makeup, after the face cream from Ponds, she’d used some foundation, as she picked up her mascara, I’d let out a silent yelp, man!  Two days ago, when I was playing house with May, I’d play with her mascara pack, and broke it, I’m about to get busted, I’d temporarily escaped punishment, but, when should the scripts of me, getting physically reprimanded is still unknown, and all I can do, is, to start, walking on the eggshells.

Putting on her lipsticks, my mother looked beautiful, it’s just, that she’d disciplined us harshly, and I’d not dared look at her straight, I’d always kept my head lowered, as she reprimanded me, or assigned me to my share of tasks around the house.  My mother continued dolling herself up, she’d picked up the rings from her jewelry box, two on her left hand, just one on her right, a total of three rings.  On those rough fingers, they looked, awkward, so, why was she putting the rings on?  I’d finally understood why she’d put on her gloves, before putting on her pantyhose.  My mother didn’t want her family to feel, that she’d married poor, that she’d not even had a ring.  Because my eldest uncle once said, “how rich can the frame-making man be?”  so that, was why my mother’d put on those rarely worn daily pieces, to show off to her family.

not my photo…

Finally, my mother walked out of her bedroom, with that golden glow about her, smiled on shyly, my dad asked, “You ready to go?”, then, he’d grabbed a handful of cash, stuffed it into my mother’s hands, told her, “Spend it all!  Buy more things for your parents!”

And, all that was lacking, was the drums rolling, the cymbals clashing, we’d called a tricycle, and was on our way, I’d turned around to look at my older brother, he was, standing by the door, angry still.

This, would be from the older orders of the world, because this woman didn’t want to be looked down by her families, so, each and every time she’d gone back to visit her own household, she’d gone ALL out, and this also shows the hardships of women from eras before, how they’d needed to, show off how rich they are after they’re wed, or, they’ll get looked down on…


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