Sunday, September 18, 2016

un-empty nest

Caught in the talons of these times, my older son and middle child returned home yesterday to catch his financial breath as he continues to look for a computer-esque job and pay off the student debt that a robust set of politicians and brokers have colluded to suck out of him. He'll work for the moment at the high school as a teacher's aide and, as I understand it, adjunct track coach.

Now that he has filled out and grown and taken on appurtenances, the house seems very small. Younger son, older son, mom and dad in a house that is short on closets and filled with the detritus that goes with bringing up three children. My daughter seems to be the only one on a professional trajectory -- married, with a job, and living elsewhere.

My son's mattress and box spring are stored in the zendo for the moment. Although I don't use the space any longer, still I hate to turn it into some pit in which overflow acquisitions are placed without thought of how the fuck to get rid of them ... make more space.

One thing good about death (I hope) -- there is plenty of room.



    1. It's not that we dislike stuffs, sometimes or most of the time we aren't in charge. I moved into my makeshift zendo prayer room months ago after vacating my bedroom of sorts, my mom found that the zendo was a much better place to sleep. Since I ain't getting married being that much of a religious zealot by this year end possibly next as well, it made sense doing without a bed completely, just a mattress in the zendo.

      It didn't work that way. A boy in the household completed the military and had a scholarship that paid everything including the dorm at the top university in Asia. Another boy is now in a classified military unit. That leaves me looking after a huge apartment by East Asian standards that my ancestors forbade renting out to tenants in favour of sunyata.

      My elder took on two community gardening lawns instead of filling up the space. If I were married I would be pitching baby cots in the bedrooms instead of papaya trees, I asked mom for a dog she objected, I took in of sorts a neighbourhood pussy cat instead and the boys'pokemon figurines or dolls alongside my buddhist altar.
      What scares me is that this world is perfectly alright without an expedited nuclear war in Korea. >_<

      What is the problem here is not my death, what is the problem here is my paternal grandmother still more alive than all her descendents at 90.

      She survived World War 2 after all, death doesn't come that easily to survivors, slightly more than a year ago there was a 20 something year old girl named Davina Huang from Singapore that went skiing in Vancouver Cananda iirc after getting out from campus at USA, she hit her head with a rock it seems and she died in an American hospital, she couldn't even outlive a 90 year old Harry Lee Kuan Yew who could go on and on without any difficulty even till His final years.