Breakdown

How has it come to this…? On the eve of mum’s (and my) departure, we resorted to quickly packing our bags and leaving our own home to go stay in a hotel? It just shows… it really is no longer our home anymore… it’s just another closed door with lots of memories behind it…

Quickly I booked a room online, right next to the airport for convenience. Brother slammed his own bedroom door shut and did not even come out to say goodbye. They say one should never part company on angry terms, for you never know when or whether you will see one another again. That age old wisdom is apparently lost on my brother.

We rode to the airport, and I could see mum’s cheeks were damp. “I am so sad…” she said. I turned away, closed my eyes tightly to dispel my own pain, and turned back to face her, smiling. “Maybe it’s for the best. We don’t have to get up so early tomorrow.” I patted her on the shoulder.

One moment we were sitting at the table sharing our last meal together, the next brother is standing in the kitchen, holding a cloth and a bottle of cleaning solution, looking angry and inspecting his precious kitchen counter for water damage and stains. So full of anger, so full of hatred, so full of pettiness… all targeted toward his own mother. Our own mother…

Within an hour after that, it was all decided. We would leave tonight, leave my brother all in peace. We would never come back again. Why should we return to such an estranged and cold house, and stay in a place where every single move and action is scrutinised for fear of causing damage to his precious little house?

Mum and I wandered around Schiphol airport. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful and mesmerising yellow glow on everything.

It all seems like a dream, a nightmare… a joke, a farce.