December day

The cold, crisp afternoon air was a welcome cure to a headache. Slept till after noon today, and the clear, blue sky outside beckoned. Brunched, zipped up, and scarfed my neck and out the door I went, into the woods.

Another week down, one and a half more to go until Christmas break. Again, the majority of nights I spent in the library, and only going home to sleep, before heading out to uni the next day. A couple of friends saw my sad complaint a couple of days about the situation at home, and how comforting they were to offer shows of support and encouragement. One or two told me they'd be interested to move in together, if there's a place available. I guess the thought has been troubling me a bit over the recent period, and more and more as I think about it.

To be honest, I'd rather not have to move out. I mean, this is after all my own home. Why should I, the one without a highflying income and having trouble making ends meet, have to go out and rent a place? And just thinking about the daunting hurdles of searching for a place, packing and moving, and trying to cover the costs with the student loan I get every month is really offputting.

But then again I really can't put up with this situation any longer. Why should I be unhappy and restless whenever I come home, or think of coming home, every single day and night? Besides, if anyone's lived with a couple before, you'd know it's not a good idea. And I really have nothing whatsoever with them in common. Sad, when you think about it, that it happens to be your own brother.

I sat down on a bench in the forest and made my weekly call to my mum. I told her my plans, and she, like so often, supported it. She felt somewhat indignant that I should have to put up with all this from my brother and the girlfriend. Exactly like I said, it is partly my own home after all. And she told me she knew how I felt. Ever since dad moved back home after disappearing for a couple of years, she pretty much has to put up with similar circumstances. Living with a stranger, someone who's suppposed to be family and the closest person in the world, but is everything else but.

I know how it is like for her, and she knows how it is for me. My dad and brother have the same kind of grumpiness and passive aggressiveness that makes life together pretty much unbearable. When they're good to you, which isn't often, they can be the kind and gentle, treat you like there's no one more precious. But the other side of them is intimidating and driven by such an irrational source of anger and hatred. They can scream and shout all sort of obscenities and stare at you like you're the scum of the earth. And then comes the aftermath of the fall-outs filled with toxic, tense silent cold war. How do you deal with a situation like this? It's not like friends you can just cut off ties with and ignore... but I often think why treat these people with any respect or even care about them when all you get in return is the cold shoulder and a vile look on the face? Blood is thicker than water, as they say. But why torture yourself and stay with someone who doesn't even treasure or realise what the unique kind of care and warmth the bonds of family has to offer?

If I do move out, it will really cause a stir in the family. Dad will most likely blame brother for everything, and we'd have another dip in the already very low relations between the two. And somehow I feel 'selfish'...I mean I have the ability and opportunity to just pack my bags and leave, but what about my mum? If anything, she has more of a right to not have to put up with the same kind of cold treatment day in and day out. She's the one who works now, she's the one who has made so many unseen sacrifices to keep this family together. She's the one who is still trying to recover from cancer...

I sat on the bench, in the forest, and listened to her, as she listened to me. she told me she's been donating to WorldVision every month for sometime now, and recently they wrote to her hoping she could adopt a six year old AIDS orphan in Mozambique. She wants to she said. A mere hour or so of work every month for her will be enough provide the child with an education and proper life.

She said she'll write back to the child.

"I'm more than willing to support you. It's the least I can do, and I'll keep on doing it for as long as I can live. When I go, and I don't know when that will be, I'll be sorry that I can no longer provide for you..."

The teardrops evaporated in the winter breeze as soon as they fell.