based on relevant events...
Well, felt like writing. So I did. I realised that I stopped posting some chapters in between the last time I wrote and this chapter. So if some things doesn't connect, then I can't really help it.
“A family’s not COMPLETE without children!” the words screamed at me as I read. The happy family depicted stared contently back at me.
I stared at the poster in front of me. I could not understand the tag line. It meant nothing to me. In fact all my life, I could never understand what it meant to be in a happy family.
My parents were not the most responsible pair. They were what you could call the negative example of everything they did. It was just an unfortunate turn of events that lead me to be conceived and borne into the world. However, upon entering the world, I was on the way out again. My parents left me on the doorstep of my Uncle and Aunt.
Uncle Tee and Aunt Mee were not bad foster parents. In fact the house they lived in was a safe haven for unwanted babies and children. They had a gift of taking in children and raising them to be proactive members of society. What more could an unwanted child ask for?
However, with me, it was different. I wasn’t particularly a fussy child, but I was a child that got into more than my fair share of trouble. Actually, truth be told, I got into more trouble more times than most children would get into their entire childhood. I was also the only reason my Uncle and Aunt ever quarrelled.
“He’s gotten into trouble again.” My Aunt would inform my Uncle when the letter from school came.
“Right.” My Uncle replied half-heartedly.
“Is that all you’re going to say? YOU were supposed to help raise him as well you know.” Aunt Mee stressed the ‘you’ in an effort to try to emphasize her point.
“It’s not just my responsibility. You agreed to take him in as well. You agreed to take him in knowing the baggage that came along, the difficulties that we will have to face with him.”
They don’t know this, but I heard every word that they said that night. I happened to be conveniently sneaking out of my room that night. I decided to go back to my room that night, but that wasn’t the start a new less troublesome life. In fact, it triggered even more extreme actions. A week later, I was sent away. Abandoned for a second time, it does wonders for one’s self esteem.
Life then was a series of movements from one home to another, none lasting for more than a quarter of a year. The various traumatic deeds that I committed helped. It was only after I turned 12 did my parents call for my return. They thought that at 12 I would have mellowed and independent to look after my own needs. And if ever I had any needs to be met, the domestic help would be there.
My parents weren’t the disciplining type. I was given all the freedom to do everything and anything I wanted. But after I returned home, I lost the thrill that came with getting in trouble. I was the perfect child, unseen and unheard. Neither being good nor bad had ever elicited a positive response from the adults in my life. Then came my seventeenth birthday when I started my 3 year trip.
“John!” a crisp clear voice called my name. Shaken out of my memories, I turned to see Uncle Tee standing next to the car waving at me, beckoning me to come. I took a last look at the poster, turned and walked toward the car. The thought of the poster was regulated to the back of my mind, being dismissed as utter rubbish.
The only thing that ever received a positive response from the adults of my family was growing up. To me, being an adult was good, a child was bad.
= ~ =
“A family’s not COMPLETE without children!” the words screamed at me as I read. The happy family depicted stared contently back at me.
I stared at the poster in front of me. I could not understand the tag line. It meant nothing to me. In fact all my life, I could never understand what it meant to be in a happy family.
My parents were not the most responsible pair. They were what you could call the negative example of everything they did. It was just an unfortunate turn of events that lead me to be conceived and borne into the world. However, upon entering the world, I was on the way out again. My parents left me on the doorstep of my Uncle and Aunt.
Uncle Tee and Aunt Mee were not bad foster parents. In fact the house they lived in was a safe haven for unwanted babies and children. They had a gift of taking in children and raising them to be proactive members of society. What more could an unwanted child ask for?
However, with me, it was different. I wasn’t particularly a fussy child, but I was a child that got into more than my fair share of trouble. Actually, truth be told, I got into more trouble more times than most children would get into their entire childhood. I was also the only reason my Uncle and Aunt ever quarrelled.
“He’s gotten into trouble again.” My Aunt would inform my Uncle when the letter from school came.
“Right.” My Uncle replied half-heartedly.
“Is that all you’re going to say? YOU were supposed to help raise him as well you know.” Aunt Mee stressed the ‘you’ in an effort to try to emphasize her point.
“It’s not just my responsibility. You agreed to take him in as well. You agreed to take him in knowing the baggage that came along, the difficulties that we will have to face with him.”
They don’t know this, but I heard every word that they said that night. I happened to be conveniently sneaking out of my room that night. I decided to go back to my room that night, but that wasn’t the start a new less troublesome life. In fact, it triggered even more extreme actions. A week later, I was sent away. Abandoned for a second time, it does wonders for one’s self esteem.
Life then was a series of movements from one home to another, none lasting for more than a quarter of a year. The various traumatic deeds that I committed helped. It was only after I turned 12 did my parents call for my return. They thought that at 12 I would have mellowed and independent to look after my own needs. And if ever I had any needs to be met, the domestic help would be there.
My parents weren’t the disciplining type. I was given all the freedom to do everything and anything I wanted. But after I returned home, I lost the thrill that came with getting in trouble. I was the perfect child, unseen and unheard. Neither being good nor bad had ever elicited a positive response from the adults in my life. Then came my seventeenth birthday when I started my 3 year trip.
“John!” a crisp clear voice called my name. Shaken out of my memories, I turned to see Uncle Tee standing next to the car waving at me, beckoning me to come. I took a last look at the poster, turned and walked toward the car. The thought of the poster was regulated to the back of my mind, being dismissed as utter rubbish.
The only thing that ever received a positive response from the adults of my family was growing up. To me, being an adult was good, a child was bad.
Labels: written in prose
posted by alvin_c at 2:47 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home