I go to my parent’s home in the suburbs every Friday afternoon. A few months ago, I decided, and they allowed me to rent a room downtown near my office. So now it is Friday, and I am on my weekly mission. Entering the gate of the housing complex gives me a special feeling that I miss during the week.
Walking to the house, I feel the mild afternoon breeze stroke my face. First, I walk along the large main street lined with large houses displaying a beautiful, well-maintained front garden. At the second crossroad, I take a right turn leading to a narrow street and smaller houses.
I know the street so well, sometimes I think that I can tread the path to my parent’s house with my eyes closed.
“Mom….! Dad….! I’m home,” I cry as I enter the
house.
Nobody shows up to greet me, but I hear Dad’s welcoming hum from the backyard, where he is busy feeding his Koi fish. Taking care of the fish has become Dad’s new hobby since retiring five years ago.
I don’t see Mom. She must be cooling herself in her air-conditioned room, reading a book or something.
I sip a glass of cold water to quench my thirst. Then I got straight to my room to change my dress to something casual and more comfortable. I can feel that my back is wet with sweat.
I unbuttoned my shirt when suddenly the door opened, and Mom walked in. I feel disturbed. I don’t like to be disturbed, especially when I need a few moments of privacy.
“Mom…?? You should have knocked before you open the door,” I say without hiding my annoyance.
