Chilluns
by maya
One perpetual truth of life with my mother is the continuous stream of visitors. The woman holds court at least three or four times a week, and that’s when things are slow. In her mind she is a burner of bridges, a lone wolf, shunned by society, asking nothing, needing less. In reality she is quite a warm, funny person, and there are certain individuals who take to her very intensely. (Until, that is, she decides, often inexplicably, that she has been wronged, and stops taking their calls.) And because my mom doesn’t like to leave her comfort zone (a zone that overlaps very neatly with the floor plan of our apartment), they come to her.
Yesterday’s afternoon visit (the evening was designated for a different crew) was our doctor — our ‘traditional Chinese medicine’ doctor. He is a lovely and impressive man, not least on each count because he treats my mom gratis, just because he genuinely enjoys her company. He gives me my medicine at no charge as well, medicine designed to reduce the heat of my chi. Which is, apparently, too hot.
We’ve grown quite close over the years, this doctor and our family of two, but this was the first time I really got to meet his wife and children. And oh, these children.
They were pret-ty cute. Even with one hula-hooping (I don’t know why my mother owns a hula hoop, though I suppose the question is now moot, considering she promptly gave the hula-hoop to the little boy the moment he showed an interest) and the other banging the jang-gu, a traditional Korean drum (I don’t know why she owns this either, and this question still lives, because the drum remains; as does the threat of impromptu drumming the next time a child visits or the mood so strikes my mother). This is worth noting, because I usually don’t find Hectic to be cute.
Even more noteworthy is how well my mother got along with these children. She likes Hectic even less than I do, unless she is the one producing it. But the little boy, in particular, was able to win her affections completely. Like so:
Well played, little boy. Well played. You earned your triceratops, as well as your amazing-huge paper plane.
