My mother's way of saying that she missed me is kinda messed up. She makes me do stuff that I usually do when I lived here. I missed her, too. Who wouldn't? I've been in the Capital for almost two years now and this is only the second time I went home.
I miss everything here. The smell of her delicious cooking, the overly fragrant Natasha and her very bright room, and of course the screams made by Jeffrey. Ah, it's good to be home.
"Mom, every time I come home, you always make me do chores. I'm supposed to relax." I mumbled under the lavatory. The pipe's broken again. I always wonder why the plumber keeps his job. It isn't well done.
"Well, sweetie, when you're the one doing the chores, I get this feeling of fulfillment. You've been the best help in this house, you know." Mother replied while mixing things up in the frying pan. It smelled good. Chicken wings in tomato sauce with potatoes, carrots, and pineapples. My favorite. I tried cooking this once in the apartment back in the Capital. After I tasted it, I have never been absent in buying take-outs. Chinese, Korean, Japanese, name them.
The pipe's fixed now. No more leaking. Or at least until I come home again next time. Even though this isn't the house my parents wanted for us, it's pretty neat. I only realized this after staying away for a long time. Like they say, you don't really know what you got until you lose them.
Making the most out of an 80 square meter land wasn't an easy job for my parents. They decided to make this a two-storey house. Dad was a carpenter so he basically made the plans. It's a good thing that he had such helpful friends. They created the house based on ideas from all of them. It wasn't the legal thing to do, but with the cash we had, we had no other choice. I was 5 years old then.
I was watching them making plan after plan and execution after execution. They wasted a lot of wood, a fact I learned after finishing college. They also had arguments between them. Finances was the cause most of the time. After four months of non stop hammering, cutting, and painting, there it was, standing in front of us. I could have never seen my parents any happier.
The sound of Jeffrey's running on the stairs was nostalgic. He was only 9 when I left and I could have sworn I was the one making those rumblings while he was coming down.
"Be careful there, buddy! We will not run out of mom's cooking." I said while putting the plates on the table. He was the hyperactive type. Especially when he smells good food.
"Did you call your sister before you came down?" I asked him.
"Yes. She'll be down in a bit. She's putting all those weird stuff on her face that makes her look like a clown. She said it would make her beautiful. She's not!" He said this while putting rice on his plate.
"Hey! That's rude. If your sister isn't beautiful, then what does that make you?" I replied while he served me rice.
"Super ugly!" Natasha said while coming down the stairs.
"Stop it both of you. C'mon, grab a plate, Tash, and let's pray." Mom instructed.
Dad was usually the one leading the prayers. But after that freak accident 3 years ago, every thing has changed. It happened when a close friend, 4 blocks away, asked for help from Dad one unforgettable night of July. She asked if he could help her fix their door. Her kids accidentally unhinged the entire door while they were playing.
He was good in fixing stuff. Very, very good. And he is also the best friend one could ever have, which caused him his life. While coming home, he passed by his buddies drinking at the side of the road. One of his friends asked him to take one for the road. Dad obliged. Just one, he thought. But he got caught up in the conversation. Before he knew it, he was already getting dizzy. He excused himself from his buddies, road the motorcycle, and went straight home.
When Dad was only two blocks away, dozens of kids were playing along the streets. Our place is a rural area. Kids playing on the streets wasn't something new. He was caught by surprise when a little boy popped up in front of the motorcycle. He didn't have time to pull the brakes so he turned right, swiveled, bumped into the gutter, and went head on with the concrete flooring.
People around the area began screaming. The kids ran back to their homes except for the little boy. The teenager who was just buying chips from the store along the road pulled out his cell phone and called 911. The nursing student who was studying for the pre-midterm exams rushed outside and immediately applied first aid. All others were just watching, hoping that nothing serious happened.
It took 15 minutes before the ambulance arrived. The nursing student could only do so much. My father was hardly breathing then. They declared my Dad dead on arrival at the hospital.
I rushed to the hospital immediately after I heard about the accident. Dad's face was in pretty bad shape. I broke the news to mom. She was pretty devastated. Natasha who was only 14 then could only stand and comfort her. While Jeffrey, at 5, didn't know what was happening.
I was in my last year of my studies at that point. I almost decided to stop school to help out in the house. Find a job maybe. But mom stopped me. She said that she could still manage and since I have one last year, I must finish it. She's a very persuasive woman. Very strong.
"Amen. Let's dig in!" Jeffrey had this look on his face that he could just devour everything including the plate.
"Here." Mom passed me my favorite. I was almost drooling. "Why did you decide to come home, Mark?" She asked. "Well, I thought to have a change of scenery. The Capital can be a very busy city. Relax and gather myself for the weekend here before getting back in action. I've never had a vacation and I think I really need this now." I replied while biting of the skin off the chicken wing.
I helped mom with the chores after we finished eating. Jeffrey was in his room studying, or playing with the PSP I bought him. And Natasha, she's a pretty lazy young lady. Sometimes I blame Dad for going away that early for their behavior. We need some tough love here, Dad!
I was bringing the the rest of the plates and the glasses to the lavatory when mom asked me something that made me almost drop them all. "Is your coming here doesn't have to do with Sophia?"
"What are you talking about, mom? We're doing good." I said this while focusing all my strength to balance all the things in my arms. "When you arrived last night, there was this look in your eyes. I've seen that look already. Where was it? Oh yeah, during the burial of your father. You had that same look. That sadness that you're trying to hide. You're keeping your emotions in your heart again, son. What's wrong?"
Yes, I'm definitely home. I told mom my problem.
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