Please. Today’s Mother’s Day.
Coming out of my room, I walked towards the living room and saw my dad sitting on the dining table. It’s not an unusual spot for him as he often spends time scrolling through LinkedIn finding interesting people to add.
I pulled out a chair and sat down. That was when I noticed the air was a tad too still…
He: Stupid pig. *muttered loudly*
I turned to look at my mom in the kitchen. She quietly put away some mangoes they had just bought from the market.
Me: Umm. What happened? *tone anxious*
She: I don’t know. Your dad is obviously not happy about something I said. If he’s not happy, why didn’t he talk to the shop vendor himself? *annoyed*
Me: Okay… but today’s Mother’s Day… *voice small*
Slowly sneaking back into my room, I was glad to get away from the scene.
I sighed a breath of relief.
When we were little, the fights were more frequent.
The memories were vague. Perhaps I was around 9.
My sister and I had been doing homework on the dining table when my mom walked through the front door. She was visibly exhausted from a day of working.
What they fought about I could not recall the exact conversation, but the yelling voices and the hurling insults were clear as yesterday.
She: Alright! I’ve had enough! I’m leaving! You guys just watch and see! I’ve had enough of this! *screamed on the top of her lungs*
I cried and pleaded with her not to leave.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
Watching her running out of the house, I wanted to go after her but thought about my sister.
Instead, I walked back into the dining room and begged my dad to go after her.
He did not, but my mom came home hours later anyway.
The summer rain drenched my sandals. I held up the umbrella in one hand and the other on my phone typing…
Me: I hate my parents fighting.
He: I know exactly what you meant.
Me: Maybe growing up and seeing them like that also affects the way I deal with conflicts.
He: You think so?
Me: Well, yeah. You learn from people around you. I think people who who the idea that kids would make the married couple’s relationship better or soften the intensity of conflicts are irresponsible.
He: Why?
Me: They should learn to communicate and not rely on the children to make the situation better. Young children are torn between siding with the mom or dad. Having the responsibility to comfort an adult, to be a mediator, that’s too much responsibility for anyone!
He: You’ve tried.
I imagined his arms around me and gently squeezed.
Hi from India.Your blog,Iris made me cringe as I saw my daughter in your sentences and my heart bled for your mother washing mangoes as she replicated me..well your father..is exactly what my husband is/was!!
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My heart goes out to all of you in India. Though I’m not a parent myself, I can imagine the hardship of communicating in the context of marriage to some extend. When we are blinded by our anger, we temporarily forget the feelings of those around us. I hope you wouldn’t criticise yourself too harshly 🙂
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