Love in the Family

It seems odd to wait in line and receive cash from my dad. While I am still sponging off of his salary, the physical exchange of it makes my inability to contribute to his life all the more apparent. My parents still have hopes that I would one day buy them a fancy car. That day will surely come, because if I cannot afford one when they're still alive, I can always burn them a paper one when they leave this world.

But looking at my mum makes me marvel at the position known as someone's wife. How can one so shamelessly spend money that they did not earn? As a product of their unity, I understand that they have the responsibility to feed their children until they reach a certain age, but my mum and dad are two separate beings tied together by vows alone. Is the role of a wife so troublesome that being married to someone grants them a kind of salary from their husbands? I suppose for men it is a small price to pay, in exchange for the constant ego boost.

Or maybe, it is just love, that which defies all reason. Buying presents for loved ones, and supplying one with a lifetime's allowance are different. How much do you need to love to be willing to share so much?

As a by-product of their love, I do not know my parents at all. Especially my father, to think that he could have been captivated by a woman of such little appeal. Her strength is her unwearable thick skin, and that burst of positivity I find all too annoying. Perhaps if she wasn't my mum, I'd love her too. Whenever I'm next to her, I become aware of my own solemnity.

I ought to try harder. It isn't that I don't love my mum, I just find her radiance hard to look at. Since arriving in Chiang Mai, I've only attacked her, without really listening to her. Being a mother to such a bitch so full of angst must be tough indeed. My sister seems to realise that and advises me to take a gulp of water and swallow my words instead of firing them at my already wounded mother. Ah, the thoughtful child. I wonder if her skills of observation aren't so poor after all.

They've retired to the room, while my brother is watching some videos on his phone. I'm sitting at the table alone, quite upright.

Sigh.

Everyone is cautious around the me who never smiles. My temper needs to be fixed, and I should learn how to smile. I'm not angry, but everyone seems to think that I am, except for the Thoughtful One who has studied me closely throughout the years. Her understanding of our family members is profound.

The reminder this trip, and one that has to be said every 5 minutes when we're together is "two sentences less". Saying two sentences less can potentially save us from more arguments and make this vacation the ideal family holiday we can all use to deepen our bonds. Keeping my words to myself won't keep that frown off my face though.

Having drank a jug of water, my bladder has reached its limit. I wonder which food is the culprit, that msg coated bastard. It's definitely the grilled pork.

I shall arise and go now, to the loo.