I distinctly remember the first day we walked into our new home. We walked in and stared at the enormous space we had to fill. We took in that fresh carpet smell. Took a couple of steps, and went through the hallway. We peeked into what would be my room. Talked about the placement of my bed. Walked out, and walked into the main room. The largest room of the whole house. We took a deep breath and sat in a corner holding each other. Side by side. Looking in amazement and gratefulness. We hugged. We cried. We stood back up. And that’s the last thing I remember…
I was fourteen at the time, but I wasn’t your typical teenager. I still don’t even understand what that was supposed to mean…I didn’t have the luxury that many others had. I never asked to go out because I knew how much pain my mom had to endure just for us to eat. It seemed like a waste. It didn’t seem worthy of her sacrifice. In fact, nothing did. Nothing does. Nothing in my life feels like it’s good enough to repay her countless of sacrifices.
I know she suffers because of the time we had to spend apart. I know she feels guilty for the countless of days she’d have to work two jobs. I know she feels remorse for the amount of holidays that were sacrificed in the eleven plus years of being in the United States. I know she wants to hold on to those memories that we missed. She wants to hold on to those things that could have been, if she had simply stopped working. But I know she also knows, she did it so we could survive. It wasn’t about buying a new video game. It wasn’t about buying the right size clothes. It was about being able to have a roof over our heads and being able to eat.
And now, she has found a person. I’m not sure if he’s a blessing or a curse. I don’t know if he was sent by God to make her happy, or from Below to make her suffer. I just know that whichever it is, we are both still in pain. We are both hurting over the time we won’t get to bond. Over the evening goodbyes we wont get to say. Over the morning blessings we wont get to give. Over the shared food, when there was nothing else to eat (or were too lazy to cook). Over the delicious meals we cooked for each other.
And now, it’s officially a month after her departure. I can feel how hard it is for her still. She still comes visits about three times a week. She no longer sees the same relationship we had. Now she wants to make it better… but by doing so, she’s destroying that which made it so special. Now she wants to go out, spend money, and share stories. I’m not a storyteller though, and she knows that. She has always known that. Our circumstances made me an introvert, and her marriage didn’t change me. Why would it? Those who I care about love me the way I am… or at least, so did she.
At this point she hold the power, but regardless of what I do… I am selfish. I am self-centered. I am disappointment. Why? I want to be able to work together as we would before the marriage. We rarely went out because we were trying to save money. And nothing has changed for me. I simply want her to realize that our relationship has never been one for long trips talking about life. Our life was that of enjoying crafting together, watching animated movies, and just accepting each other’s presence. Yes, we’d go out but it was once every three weeks? Maybe. We would randomly stop by places, go into stores, and such, but it was more about the moment. Now, it’s about planning and how we have to go out.
I love my home though. I love being with my furkids in the weekend. And I still yearn for a day when she realizes that what makes us the happiest is spending time just the two of us. Mother and daughter. Crafting and creating.