Perspectives, John

Every day is a chance to learn something new. This is one of my life philosophies.

Today will be yet another one of those chances, as the sun does not fail to rise and greet me with a warm “good morning.” I decide to open my eyes, get to my feet, and begin what will assuredly be a lesson-filled day.

Beginning every morning in contemplation is of the utmost importance. Of course, I will make myself some coffee, Cheerios, and milk. Perhaps I will also eat a banana, I’m not quite sure. But of all things to partake in, contemplation is the most important.

If contemplation is the most important, then a connection to the local community is the second-most. In my hometown in far-off China, it was not uncommon to see men gather in the local squares to make small talk and ask each other about their wives and families. They would drink tea, play checkers, or simply sit and observe. All of this, because it is important to have a sense of community.

Although I may not be in my hometown, I can continue this important tradition in other ways. In years past, I used to drive to the local McDonald’s for coffee. On occasion, I might drive to a local park. Today, however, driving does not suit my interest and I would rather simply read the newspaper. This morning, there is no newspaper on my table. Sun-Kei nor Daniel must not have picked it up yet. No matter, I can simply put on my shoes and collect it myself from the driveway.

In fact, there it is, as it should be. The Wall Street Journal. Everyday it is the same size. Everyday there is a large photograph on the front. Sometimes it is a picture of many buildings. Sometimes it is a picture of a man with golden hair. Sometimes it is a picture of a man with dark black hair. I peruse through its many pages; very little of it speaks of any major significance.

Nevertheless, it is important to still read the news, to have a sense of community. How could you understand that so little is happening in the world unless you choose to look at it? This is one of my life philosophies.

I sit on the couch to rest, and to reflect a little more on the day. I do not believe I have any errands to run as there was plenty of milk and coffee this morning. The house is rather quiet; perhaps Sun-Kei and Daniel are both gone. But the house is quiet even when they are home. I prefer to have the house be quiet as it allows me to focus and reflect.

I feel a little bit of hunger. There are still some leftovers in the refrigerator which I can simply reheat in the microwave.

I sit back down to reflect. Suddenly, Daniel is home. I guess he must have been home this whole time. That is good, because when he is home, that means the car is also here, which means I could have gone to run errands had I needed to. I do not, but it is important to have the ability to do so should such a need arise.

Daniel comes to my side and presses his hand against my shoulder.

“Do you want to go eat at…” he asks me, but he is not clear about finishing his sentence. He should speak more clearly.

“Where?” I ask him to confirm.

“New Lim’s Garden.”

Oh. The Chinese restaurant.

“Sure, I will go where you want to go,” I say. I believe in doing what is good for the family. I am amenable to many places, including the Chinese restaurant.

I typically allow Daniel to drive when we travel together. He is young, and needs the experience.

For example, right now there is a rather large bus in front of us. Daniel should move into the other lane to avoid being behind the bus, and because the other lane is moving faster. He can be too nice, perhaps I should tell him what to do.

“Move into the other lane,” I say.

We are still in the same lane.

Why doesn’t Daniel move into the other lane?

“You always get stuck in traffic,” I say to him, “it comes with experience.” I have driven for many years, perhaps even decades now. I was always a good driver, and could drive any car.

If Daniel responds, I do not notice it. He has a habit of not speaking clearly.

“John?” a voice asks me from behind. It must be Sun-Kei. “Do you…” and then I can’t hear her anymore. I do not understand why people purposefully speak more quietly as their sentence goes on.

“I can’t hear you,” I tell her.

She says something but does not speak any louder.

“I can’t hear you,” I tell her again.

She continues speaking but still does not raise her volume. This is a waste of time and energy. I always speak loud and clear, but it seems that others are not capable of grasping my point. Perhaps she is becoming hard of hearing.

“I can’t, hear, you.” I say very slowly and calmly.

I give up, there is no more point to discussing this, and the rest of the drive is rather quiet. I enjoy a quiet drive. This way, I can listen to the music.

There are only a few other families at the Chinese restaurant. This is ideal, in that having other families eating alongside us provides us with a sense of human community. Have too many families, and the place becomes noise-ridden and it is impossible to have a conversation.

A waitress gives Sun-Kei a glass of water. I wonder if they gave her faucet water, which would be terrible. Daniel seems to wonder the same thing, coincidentally at the same time (he is my son after all), because he tries a sip, and tells me that it is filtered water. He says this with a large smile, almost like he is lying to me, but he would never do that.

Daniel orders Honey Walnut Prawns, which is his favorite dish. I know it is his favorite, because when he was even younger, I would tell him that it is his favorite, and then we would order it. That is how I know it is his favorite. I am glad to see him order it again.

Once we are back at home, I relax on the sofa again. It has been a long, fruitful day, and I shall begin to wind down by turning on the TV.

“John?” Sun-Kei comes to ask me. “How about you take a shower? Yes?”

I really feel slighted now. She has already asked me this a dozen times today and I have given her the same answer, which is what I will repeat now.

“I’m not going to take a shower today.”

“Well then, how about you take a shower tomor....” she repeats herself, and she does not even finish her sentence just like she has been struggling to do as of late.

If she is going to repeat herself, then so am I. “I’m not going to take a shower today.”

More words come from her mouth, and I already know what they are. I have already answered her; why is she continuing to ask me this over and over? I will just ignore her. Perhaps then, she will stop pestering me. She continues to yell at me. I will not entertain her.

They are showing sports on TV. They spend far too much time on the ‘Sports’ section of the news. In fact, it should not be there at all.

Perhaps they are showing sports because it is Sunday and there is no other news to talk about.

“Sun-Kei,” I call for my wife. “Today is Sunday, right?”

“Sunday? No. Today is Wednesday.”

“Oh, it’s Wednesday?” I’m surprised. Time really does fly.

I return to watching the TV. At some point, I see Daniel walk over. He comes and rests his hand on my shoulder.

“What was the best part about today?” he questions me.

I am not sure I understand the question. Which part is he asking me about? Which part of what? Is he speaking figuratively or literally?

He says something but I don’t really hear him. He has a habit of speaking too softly.

Maybe he was inquiring about what I enjoyed the most about today. If so—more than anything else in the world, I would like for Daniel to be happy, and so I will answer accordingly. “You,” I say, patting his wrist.

He mumbles something back to me before walking away.

I return to watching the TV. There is a woman who looks quite sad and overcome with melancholy. She reminds me of patients I walked past at the hospital not long ago...when was it that we took Sun-Kei to see the neurologist? Maybe it was last week. I cannot remember. But when it happened is not important. What is important is that I remember seeing many people, some of whom sat in wheelchairs, some of whom could walk only with the assistance of a walker, some of whom were connected to machines with plastic tubes. I am always thankful when I see people like them; they are in much more lamentable situations than me.

It is dark now, and I am beginning to feel rather exhausted. Before I retire to my bedroom, I turn off the kitchen lights and check the doors to make sure they are locked. It is good to practice safety and security. I pass by Daniel’s room and his door is closed. I hope he is happy in there.

I lie back down in my bed. The sun has set, and even though I cannot see the stars from where I lie, I know that they are out there. They remind me to look back on my day and reflect, and to recognize that today was full of lessons.

This is one of my life philosophies.