I had no idea I could do it. Winning the game did not even cross my mind. I joined. Not because I wanted to but because they told me to. Not because I aimed to win but because I wanted to get everything over with, move on with the show and go home. I did, in fact, won. The last bite was phenomenal. I saw my dad coaching me from afar. "Eat it from underneath," he mimed. So I did. I consumed the entire apple, and won the prize. That was the very first time I saw my mom cry. Those were tears of joy. You see, I was born a loser. But that night, I won. The apple-eating contest. One of the games for the kids on a Christmas party sometime during my Grade School years.
I had not got any recollection of my mom when I was little. The earliest memory that I can remember of my mom was when I came home from the care of my Aunt and my Grandmother. That was the first time I saw a refrigerator. I was so surprised to see that it was filled with different contents. Food, Drinks, Vegetables. When I was living with my grandmother, we just had enough. I never experienced a fridge filled with food. It was something new to me. That's how I first remembered her. Telling me to close the fridge because it would make the electicity bill go up. I was disappointed. I was so soft-hearted I cried inside when she told me to close the fridge. "Why are you scolding me? I didn't know anything about opening fridge, electricity and all that bull!" I said to myself. But I did not cry. I should not. I need to show my mom that my grandmother raised her grandchild as a strong boy.
I like staring at how she does things. Especially when she made my school projects. Those clippings where she'd pasted different cutouts of pictures from magazines on to the white clean paper and compiled them in a yellow, cardboard folder. Compressed by a fastener, a classic grade school project must-have. It was so neat and presentable. I was in third grade. During the time, I was wondering, "Were other kids' parents doing the same thing for thier children, who were my classmates?" I thought about it, but did not care. As long as I had that neat and presentable school project for my teacher. That ended when I stepped on the 4th grade. She laid all the supplies and I wondered why she has not started working on my project. Then she came and asked my, "Why aren't you working on you school project yet?" I had a blank stare. I mumbled, "But I thought you would do it." She sighed, "You need to work on your own now. Your teacher won't give you a grade for my work, it's your work." And boom, my first life lesson from my mom.
I got sick. My mom is not a hospital person. Each time we got sick, we self medicate. Buy generic drugs from drugstores and had me take a dose of those medicines until I get well. That's why I was never admitted and confined in a hospital. Up until today. I remembered when I was so sick, I had a severe flu. I had no sense of taste with food. Every dish was blunt and tasted wierd. I had never eaten for the entire day. Then, mom prepared and cooked noodles for me. She helped me up and she had me go to the dining area. I was wearing a blanket because I was freezing. I sat and there in front of me was a bowl of hot cooked noodle soup. I consumed a quarter of a spoon and complained, "It doesn't taste good." My mom ignored my comment. I unwillingly swallowed the noodle that tasted like a rotten bubblegum-flavored slime. She offered another spoonful of noodle soup. That time, I declined. I said, "I hate the taste, Mom. It tastes awful." Then, the response that I will never ever forget, "You will not feel well if you will not help yourself."
There was a time that my mom would stay up so late at night when I was sick. She was so worried that I won't be able to sleep through the night. I was injured. My right leg was hurt really bad for an unknown reason. That scene was still so vivid I can still see the whole picture when I close my eyes. The light from the outside of the bedroom window lit my entire room. It was yellow. Kind of like the mild ray of the sun passing through the window grills. It was not that bright. It was just enough to make you fall asleep and relax. But for me, it was horrible. I was in pain. I was alone in my room, and in pain. Sometimes I would moan but still tried to hold it just so I wouldn't be able to disturb my parents who were already asleep. But I could not help it. It was painful. My right leg was killing me. But thank God I found the right sleeping position that helped ease the pain. But it was too late. My mom woke up. I thought she would get angry at me for being too noisy and annoying in the middle of the night. I was wrong. She woke me up, I was pretending to be asleep. And told me to get up so she could help my bring myself to her room so I can sleep there for the night. Although struggling, I tried my best to get up, my Mom was assisting me, served as my right leg and helped me walk through the hallway and into the master's bedroom. Another unforgettable memory.
And now, it was the other way around. My mom needed me. She doesn't want to bother me on my usual daily life in the city. She was lying in the hospital bed, waiting for the day of the surgical procedure. Her gallbladder was so sore, it needed to be treated. I knew she wanted me there by her side. She just chose to be quiet and let destiny make me decide to go look after her. My younger brother and sister made me realize that. They were crying on the phone begging for me to come home and look after my mom just before the operation. I never hesitated. They were crying on the phone. I packed my things and bought a plane ticket and took the earliest flight home. I went straight from the airport to the hospital. I saw my Mom. She smiled. I smiled. I hugged her, and kissed her. I told her everything will be alright. Then my brother told me, it was the first time he saw our mom smiled since she felt sick. It made me realize, it's my turn. It's my turn to make her feel that she has someone to look after her. This time, she's the one who's in pain, and I am the one who will help her walk through the hallway and be one of his foot. I love you mom. Stay with us longer. Give me all the wisdom you have for surviving more than 50 years of raising a person like me. A person that I am.
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