Love in the Forgetfulness

How we’d, learned to grow old together, with as little friction as we possibly can, translated…

Back when I was younger, I had amazing memory, my memory is like a computer, I can immediately make the connections. From before I wed, my husband took me to Hsinchu to get my wedding dress, in the shopping strip, which alley takes me to which street, I’d known, after walking it once, I’d made fun of him, how he’d studied in the windy city, and needed ME to be his tourguide. And now, my originally sharp memories, started, slowly, disappearing.

My husband never had good memories, and had made fun of himself, how all the books he’d read, it’d become, brand new the next time, he can’t remember it; it’s a wonder, that the books he’d checked out of the libraries, he’d read a ton of them over three times. And now, the two of us, “I forget this, and you forget that”, too scatterbrains, living under the same roof, what sort of a spark can come flying? It’s something, that I wanted to wait and see.

Actually, the T.V. commercials already prerecorded down this segment—did you have your meds yet? I think I had, but then, so, I’d, taken another pack, and, I’d found, that discarded medicine pouch in the trash, funny, right? But I’m not laughing, because this happens a lot at my home. I’d forgotten the salt when I made the soups, so bland, so tasteless; added salt repeatedly, too salty, can’t even swallow; the steamed fish with the steam machines, kept to rancid, and I’d, recalled, hey, I’d made that a couple of days back…………we had an assortment of messy moments like these in our lives.

illustration from the papers online…圖/PPANhere they both are, pickign up each other’s slacks…

Although being forgetful is nothing so serious, but, the trials it’d caused, made us not know how to react, and we’d, felt, stressed out. And still, even AS we’d done these sorts of messed up things, we’d never gotten into an argument over it, nor would we, fight. All because we’d come to understand, and learned to tolerate one another, and the forgetfulness that stemmed from understanding, tolerate everything imperfect, and, accept that good memories are a gift, that the heavens loaned to us temporarily.

And because of it, from before when my husband forgot to lift up the toilet seat, I’d nagged him and now, I just, lift up the toilet seat covers up; I’d forgotten to wipe up the floors after my shower, he’d start mopping up the water that spilled out; I’d helped him find the glasses he’d “lost”, then, I’d found, hey, the glasses were, “resting” on his nose, and, we’d, looked at one another and smiled; when I went to the doctor’s office, I’d never remembered my health insurance card, without a word of complaint, he’d, immediately turned the car around to get it. And all of these, seemingly unimportant things in life, without the tolerance or the understandings, it can easily, be a cause of WAR!

I have more of a calculating nature, I’d kept scores, and nagged more, and my husband would often consoled with me, “We’re older now, and, being mobile is a blessing; we can do it, and we shall, and no complaints over it”, meant, that I should just, do more and complain less; and now, the two of us coped with our inevitable forgetfulness, using these words—he’d forgotten, I’d picked up the slacks for him; if I’d forgotten, and he’d, made up for it.

Love is that simple, but you’d, needed a lot of practice on it.

And so, this, is how the two of you finally, learned to appreciate one another in midlife, and, because you two are aging slowly, and becoming more and more forgetful, you two had decided to stop nagging one another, and just picked up one another’s slacks, and that made life easier for the both of you, and, it reduced a ton of tensions that you had had when you were younger too.

Advertisements

Pour Me that Cup of Your Solitude…

Pour me that cup of your solitude, why don’t you? You KNOW you want to share that with someone, might as well be me, ‘cuz I’m the only one available, who’ll, lend you, my helping ear!

You’d, poured me that cup of your solitude, and I’d, taken a sip, and immediately, I’d, spat it back out, it’d tasted so awful, so bitter, and acidic that it’d, burned my esophagus, as it trickled down my throat.

查看來源圖片like this???  Photo from online…

Pour me that cup of your solitude, share with me, those lonely dreams of yours, and you will, still feel just as, if not more so, lonely compared to when you’d, come in…

Pour me that cup of your solitude if you will, but, don’t expect me, that I’ll, allow you, to force feed it down into my throat! I won’t take it, I don’t want your solitude, it’s something that’s, B-A-D, I’d much rather, taste that bitter cup of my own solitude, all alone, without you there.

Pour me that cup of your solitude, that, is what you want to do, to SHARE with me, your loneliness, but, I don’t want NONE of that, I don’t want YOUR solitude, I have my own, and my solitude, is WAY, WAY, W-A-Y better than yours!!!

The Noises from the Construction, a Short Prose

Everything IS temporary, except, a few exceptions in life, translated…

She’d heard the stuffiness of the constructions. If there are constructions done in the apartments of her building, they would normally post the notices, and the constructions would usually start from Monday through Fridays, eight to six, and avoiding the weekends, the holidays and the evenings. Today was her day off from work, that was why she’d heard the construction noises. The new neighbors who was getting the work done is very courteous, before the constructions began, they’d bought the gives for all the neighbors. Perhaps, it’s how the new neighbors seemed like a newlywed couple, or how they’d given the honey cakes as the gifts to the neighbors, that was why she’d felt that the noises from the constructions sounded more like the bees, buzzing along happily, working hard. Later, the construction noises had died down, and the honey cake was, finished too. Until another new neighbor had moved in to her right, she’d gotten reminded of the couple. Construction can turn the property pretty again, that was why she’d always felt that the noises from the constructions were, blissful. It’s just, that the construction noises are, temporary, but, the fighting that came from the neighbor on the right, is frequent.

like this???  Photo from online…查看來源圖片

And so, being a “bystander”, this woman learned something, that the happiness of a relationship is short-lived, like how short the honeymoon phase lasted in a relationship, what’s long term were those nights of fighting with each other, disagreeing with one another, the yelling, the screaming, after the honeymoon phase was, over! Just like how sweet the cakes tasted, but, after you’d eaten them, you’d, not noted them anymore, like how short-lived love actually is!

Saved Your Lies, for a Worse Day…

Still not in my nature, to THROW anything away, fearing, that I may one day, need what I have no use for right now…

So, I’d, saved your lies, for a worse day, but, I’m having better days now, and so, your lies stopped, making their treks across my mind. Saved your lies, for a worse day, I shouldn’t have, I know, because on my worse days, I’d be desperate, for that cheer-me-up, and your lies, just don’t, do the “trick” at all, but, I’d, saved them, for a worse day.

I suppose, it’s how I want to, remind myself, how your lies are, FAR worse than the worse days that I’d currently be, experiencing? Like measuring down, and feeling good ‘bout myself, maybe?

Saved your lies, for a worse day, until, all I got, were your lies, manifesting, into my life, and, every day gets worse than the ones that came previously. This won’t do!

So, I’d, stopped saving your lies, for ANY day, besides, been living with your lies, for too long, it’s time, I’d, cleared them all away, and, the moment I got rid of that latest and last lie of yours, I see the sun, shining on my face…

I will NEVER be, saving your lies again, learned THAT lesson, the HARD way too, don’t you know???

 

 

 

 

 

Danshui, a Short Prose

Sleeping together in the same bed, dreaming of different dreams, living together, alone on your own, and yet, neither one of you brings up the subject of DIVORCE??? Translated…

On the weekends, she’d gone to Danshui often. Mostly, early in the mornings. After she’d trekked over the place she’d wanted to go, the crowd started gathering all around, the street performers are about to put on their shows then. She’d usually leave at around this time. She’d loved that quietness of the early mornings, and not enjoyed how crowded the place was in the afternoons. When she’d returned home, her husband became, easier to get along too, because he’d already had the chance to see someone that made him happy too.

And so, this, is how the two of you live together separately, and, although the two of you knew, that you’re no longer “with” one another, you still stayed in this marriage, but why is that, huh? Are you, just, too comfortable, of living together alone on your own already?

What My Dear Wife Told Me When She Divorces Me

A visit to his sons’ nanny had roused up so many memories of shared conversations with his own wife, translated…

I rang the doorbell twice, the steel door from the first floor, slowly, opened up, like it’d, taken the orders from some unheard signals. I’d climbed up those, familiar steps, realized that don’t know when, the third floor residents had, changed their doors. Without having the time to breathe, or sigh on how my manopause had, finally hit me, I’d found, that Mumu was waiting by my fifth-floor home outside.

“Ah, I’d told you I’d come to your house, your wife told me it wasn’t, necessary, said that you could drop by after work……”, Mumu said.

I’d taken that back of salty glutinous balls, on the way home. Saw how Mumu had, made the meat-filled rice balls at the marketplaces, wrapped with a layer of newspaper, to keep the foods from getting wet, and put it all inside a red-white striped plastic bag so I can carry them home with ease. In the evening of the basin of Taipei, when the temperatures dropped to below ten, I’d felt, that warmth from my hometown down south.

Mumu, was the nanny of my two children. At the start, to find a nanny, my wife became like an octopus, and, used her three hearts, and searched for the passions of the nannies she’d interviewed; plus those three levels worth of neural control tracking system, to see which nannies had the licensures, with the mind for business, but without the hearts; then, used the suction plates to cross-compare the testimonies of everybody she contacted, in that era where Facebook was still in the making. Then, the final touch: chose a sunny afternoon, to pay the nannies an abrupt visit to see how they’d reacted.

Before I’d entered into the top three nannies of choices, I’d rung the doorbell, and started screaming at the top of my lungs, “Ahhhhhhhhhhh, I thought I just passed by, so can I come in and see you, about the child I need you to look after, yes, now, would it be, convenient for you? Thanks.” I’m not really sure, that if that was, from my wife’s French horn playing days as a teenager, that it’d, caused her breath to be, son long winded, or if it was from her being a mother.

“How would you know it’s her?”, I’d recalled asking the question. In the end, she’d found Mumu, who wasn’t even, licensed as a nanny, but who had what counted the most, to us, two ANAL parents, a heart that loves and cherishes a child. It’s, instinct, my wife’d, told me.

I’d carried the bag of handmade meat rice balls, on the way home. Suddenly, I’d recalled how when my sons were still quite young, as they were being nannied in Mumu’s home, don’t know what got into me, but I’d asked my wife, “If we get divorced later, and you and I can only take one child with us, who will you choose?”, that was like that brain-dead question of “who are you going to save, your girlfriend or your mother if they’re both, drowning?”

My dearest wife told me, that when she divorces me, she will choose to take our eldest. Don’t know why but she’d become, extremely, concentrating. “Why?”, back then, I’d asked the question with that serious manner, but later, I’d felt, that I was, being stupid. “The younger is healthier, he’ll do find with you as his caretaker. But the eldest is not as healthy, he has asthma, I could look after him better.”

On the evening of the Lamp Festivals, it was like Christmas came early, it’d, reminded me of how I need to count my blessings, and be grateful for what I’d been given in life.

And so, this is the man’s mind, and, it’s all hypothetical that this stupid question was blurted out by this man earlier, and, the wife’s thoughts were more considerate, and, visiting the nanny of his two children had reminded of how important the women in the writer’s life are, and surely, he would, appreciate them more!

Magicians in the Marriage, on Filial Relations

How we end up, complimenting one another, making up for the missing parts of one another’s personalities, that’s what made us a perfect fit in marriage, translated…

It wasn’t until I got married, did I discover, that I was, a magician.

On this day, my husband was having troubles, finding his tie. I couldn’t take it anymore, and so, I’d, put my hand into the closets, and, grabbed out that tie he’d been searching for, in the messy closet. My husband hollered out in awe, and claimed, that I must’ve, extended my arms into another space and time, otherwise, how was I able to, find the “missing” that no longer “resided” inside his closets.

Another time, the two of us sat at home, getting bored, there was the news, that someone was coming by for a visit in thirty minutes. I’d put down my cell phone, then, told that soldier to get into the dressing room, then, I’d, immediately started the covering process: cleaning, hiding the items, and, picking up the items scattered around the house, and, as he’d gotten dressed properly, I was already, in the kitchen, preparing the snacks already.

photo from online…

Seeing how he’d only gone in to change, and, the living room already became, spotless, he’d exclaimed, “Honey, you have, magic, right!”, I’d once, contemplated, how I’d become, so “magical” myself. Especially as he’d turned too lazy, and needed me to help him solve his problems a lot, and, I’d hated myself, for answering to his requests. But, think on it, perhaps, the only one he can rely on like this, there’s, just me, and so, other than feeling not wanting to do it, I’d, felt, compelled, to spoil him a little.

Late last night, I’d, stayed up with my detective noel, and, I was reading on how the protagonist had, bumped into the victim in the scary bedroom, and suddenly, a strong wind blew from outside the window, and the sharpened sound gave me the creeps, and I’d, found my way, into his arms. And, him, being, sound asleep, knew that it was my overly active imagination again, he’d soothed me, said, “Told you you’d get scared, and you still read it, you’d, learned your lessons now, huh?”, I’d played coy, and objected, “Well, it’s okay if I get scared, I can run to you and hide in your arms anytime!”

That, is when it’d, dawned on me, that everybody in marriage had, somehow, become one another’s magicians. Because of one another’s needs, we’d, toughened ourselves up, at the same time, because her/his abilities, we’re able to, be weakly because we can be. From the start, what holds the magic, had never been, me, it was, the true love I’d found in him.

a perfect fit ofr each other…not my photo…

And so, this is on how married people will complement each other, because you will make up for the lacking of the other person in the marriage, and, slowly, the two of you, became inseparable two halves of a hole.