Forgetting our own face

Have you ever gotten up forgetting what your own face was like?

When I got up this morning, I looked at my face in my bathroom mirror. Suddenly, I had a doubt that if the face reflected before me in the mirror was my own damn face. I then placed both palms on my face while studying it - it had an oval shape, some beard and mustache, two-layer eyelids, curve eyebrows, brown eyes, straight hair though a bit messy after waking up. That should be me. But why could I not recognize my own face? Why did I doubt the person in the mirror before me? Why did I have this kind of thought? Did I actually doubt my face? Or did I actually doubt my existence? Or did I doubt what I should do today? What do I want to achieve today? A lot of questions popped up in my head that I could not find an answer to. I then washed my own damn face that I could not recognize, dressed up, locked the door behind me, and drove down the road to the office as usual. Yet, my head still thought about my face, my existence, my goal, my ... Inattentively, half of my body was wet. A car roamed over a bottle of water and splashed onto me. I was then awakened. Those thoughts vanished in the traffic as I had to focus on the road before me. 

Our First Home

"Have you ever imagined getting up your first home disappeared?"

I have never thought about that, not even once. I have never thought that my first home and her households would disappear one day. This kind of thinking has never crossed my mind, and I am not ready to think about it, for it will be very, very heartbreaking to face.

What would we behave if the persons—though we do not verbally express our feelings toward one another, but in our heart we know that we care for each other—disappear one day?

My first home has my parents and siblings. We grow up not talking much with one another. My parents in my childhood memories were too busy securing enough meals on the table. They got up early to mend their business. They were like opportunists. They often changed their business when new opportunities or demands rose. They did not stay still. They were very active. We all were very active. My siblings and I studied three times a day—morning, afternoon, and evening. When dust came, we were all exhausted. We then crawled into our own bed and the next day arrived. Our days went like this days, months, and years. We did not exchange many words, but we knew pretty clearly that we cared for each other and were responsible for our duties so that we made no one worried. It became our routines and responsibilities—they earned income, and we, the children, earned a degree. When we realized it, wrinkles welled up our arms and foreheads.

Now, I have a second home—my own home. But I can’t get rid of my first home. When I feel sick, I would go back to that leaking and dusty room. It will be the perfect place to escape despite the fact that I already have another escape because I know very clearly that I would be well taken care of. Someone would call up from downstairs to check if I am feeling better. Someone would call me for meals and medications.

So, when you asked me “Have you ever imagined getting up your first home disappeared?” tears would well up in my eyes. I want my first home to be immortal, eternal. I want my first home to always be there no matter what. I want my first home to never disappear because I am not ready to let go of my first home. I hope you do too. No matter how bad the memories of the first home was, in the end, they would never let anyone’s hands go because we are family. We not only laugh but cry.