Monday, September 14, 2009

The Departure

"Mommy, I want another gravy egg!” Andy demanded. She spooned over an egg with some dark sauce, half listening and half annoyed.

"Why is she burying herself in the kitchen and treating this as a banquet?” She wanted to tell her, “Come sit by me, please. Could you hold my hand just once, please?” But she couldn’t mutter a word.

Remember: parents are always right.

Andy’s little sister Amy was fidgeting in her chair and, as usual, not wanting to eat anything. She let out a sigh and put the spoon down. Amy was too young to understand the starving children in China – the way she was told when she was a child.

The Guilt Trip is acceptable to make the kid obey.

James’ appetite was completely intact, and he was on his second helping - the man could eat the kitchen sink if you let him.

But not today! She silently screamed to herself. What’s the matter with you? Don’t you have a heart? Don’t you have any feelings at all?

Why should he? He was going to reunite with his family. The only family he knew and was connected to, but she didn’t know this then. She still had the illusion that the four of them were the family she and James needed to love and protect and fight for. So naturally, he couldn’t relate to her feelings even if he tried. It wasn’t he who was leaving his parents for good.

"Mom, come sit down and eat something.” She jumped on the opportunity when her mother came out of the kitchen to add one more dish to the table.

"No, no. Don’t worry about me. Go ahead and eat. Make sure Andy has enough!” She answered the same way as she did the previous attempts, and went back to the kitchen.

Don’t you have anything to say to me? I am leaving for God’s sake, and I don’t know when I’ll ever see you again! Is food more important than thoughts? She pushed away the unfinished lunch and gave up.

Children are never to challenge their parents.

Her mother thought of a few things to instruct on the way to the airport - she even told Andy not to tease his sister too much, and to listen to his mother. They waited at the airport with few words exchanged. How do you start something so foreign that you didn’t know what the first word should be?

It was time to board. There was a little shine in her mother’s eyes when they hugged.

Hold me tight and tell me you will miss me. Tell me everything will be OK and you will see me soon. Tell me Brazil is not too far and you will find a way to go there even though nobody could get a passport.

But she didn’t say it. They said goodbye as if they would meet again soon. Last chance, but it was gone too soon.

The force of the takeoff pushed her into her seat. She looked away from the window, and tears finally glided down silently.

11 comments:

  1. Aw! And here I thought there was no crying in blogging. Now I REALLY need a Kleenex. Great writing!

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  2. charlene - thanks to your blog i can pick myself up after beating myself down with my own story first...:)

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  3. This seems like a very sad story! I hope that the mom can come back from Brazil! :(

    I hope that you will be cheered up by the continuing adventures of Google as it takes over the world:

    http://dannysignifyingnothing.blogspot.com/2009/09/signoth-story-1-google-yahoo-merger_1658.html

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  4. thanks danny. i know google is on its way to take over the world, but i guess i'm stubborn. :) still resisting ipod and iphone.

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  5. oh sarah, what a beautifully written touching story, left ole babblin bob speechless. fantastic

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  6. thank you bob. i hope it brings you some reading enjoyment the way your stories do to us. (well, maybe not quite the same way :)

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  7. Sarah, can you e-mail me.

    bobcindychris@suddenlink.net

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  8. i got another award last week too, bt i didn't know what it was. stoopid huh

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  9. Wow that was really touching - not at all what I expected just by nosing around some other blogs.

    Hope to read more soon

    Kate x

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  10. kate - thank you for stopping by. i'll pop over to read your blog now. cheers.

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  11. The unspoken word often hurts the most.
    http://www.boomerpie.com/
    Follow me.

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