Saturday, November 2, 2013


     When they lived in New York, father and mother constantly complained that we were so far apart. When they moved into the apartments, they bemoaned the fact that we lived too far from them, 10 minutes away, in Hayward, so after our daughter was born, we moved in the same apartments as them, in San Leandro (they began nagging at us that the parking lot was too much of an obstacle and we should move into the same hallway as them). At first, it seemed like a perfect arrangement, especially, for me. Early in the morning I would bring my little girl to her Grandpa's and Grandma's place. They would take care of us the whole day; my only job was to feed Hanah, every couple of days take Mom and Dad shopping or to the appointments and rest up before I had to feed Hanah again. Sometimes my parents would even come to my apartment and clean up! The only person who wasn't happy with this situation was my husband. It seemed to him that, I came home later and later from my "other home" across the parking lot. I couldn't understand that. Didn't he get my Mom's wonderful dinners every night? Wasn't he welcomed at Mom and Dad's any time he was lonesome? What he couldn't convey to me was that it was hard for him to share my attention and time with others.
     What I also didn't immediately catch was that he and my mom were so much alike. They didn't only have the same attitudes and a belief that the world should bend itself to their wishes. They even had the same weird illnesses, like Shingles or frozen shoulders, or unexplained dizziness. We came to anticipate that if one of them had such a malady, the other will soon follow the suit. I suspected that they were the fraternal twins, whose eggs were separated and one of them sent to a woman in Japan. Mom and I would often have a fight, and I’d leave, only to have another fight at home. Even so, it was a sweet life for me.

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