Every morning, the old mother, who looks like the original
Madonna, wakes up off her floor mat and goes out to the garden to pick up
fallen leaves. No one asked her. No one thanks her or mentions it. It's just
what old mothers do to help the family.
She's helped the family for 60 adult years, sending her
beloved teenage son to the other side of the planet, so he could have a better
life. Sending her beloved daughter to the other side of the planet, so she
could have a better life. The illusion of freedom and happiness sometimes
becomes real. Life without hope is always real.
This is what mothers were born to do, in Hollywood Golden Age movies and the rest of the truly impoverished world...sacrifice. Men don't know what it means, at its deepest mother-level, although too many may work at jobs that steal their spirits or fight in wars that steal their lives.
A moment of pleasure, together with the luck or misfortune
of a brainless frantic sperm connecting with a patient waiting egg, often leads
to a lifetime of disappointment, intolerable pain that is tolerated, or
magnificent creativity that rewards a species which doesn't notice or deserve
it.
Now, the mother makes traditional coffee for the sleeping
man who will awaken soon to nod or say a few words, then go on about his man's
business, whatever that may be.
Somehow, the pieces come together to form human existence.
Another generation goes by. More leaves are picked up, more coffee made, more
wars fought, more art created, more children released to their fates, more
loneliness and momentary love.
There is beauty in the absurd and sad. Laughter and play may
make it all worthwhile, but who is to judge. Another handful of leaves just
floated from heaven to earth. Another coffee bean sprouted.
(Painting by 陳守玉)
