Panda Gifts, Chapter 1 Part 8

From Taipei to Queens to Mt. Vernon -- the final installment

Mom quit her job at Esso so she could stay home. Mom and Dad fought less while I assumed a new set of domestic duties ranging from housework to childcare. With Puopuo gone, life and color was drained from my world, but I knew I couldn’t talk about what had happened. Mom had a hard time managing all the childcare, housework and cooking on her own so I picked up the slack. I had to mop the yellow and brown linoleum kitchen floor every other day. I had to sweep the front porch and front steps once a week to keep things tidy. Mom told me if I saw dust or dirt or lint anywhere in the house, it was my duty to get a rag and wipe it away. After dinner, I had to clear the table and tippy toe over the sink to wash dishes. I had to take care of David and Helen by wiping their mouths, straightening their rooms and disciplining them. I got in the habit of yelling at my siblings in my newly fluent schoolyard, Bronx inflected English. I was constantly telling them off. Don’t sit so close to the TV. Clean your plate! Stupid idiot!  Don’t get crumbs on the living room carpet. What are you? A moron? How can you eat like that? That’s disgusting! Get a plate if you’re going to eat that hotdog in living room! Wipe your mouth! Blow your nose! That’s disgusting. Don’t blow your nose on your sleeve. Get a tissue. Don’t eat that with your fingers! My rough treatment of them pleased my parents as I was behaving like a miniature version of them, but Mom’s exhaustion was contagious. She was languid: her sadness was palpable. Her depression colored our lives and I hated coming home for lunch now. Once I entered the house, I felt as if I stepped into quicksand. Puopuo used to have a hot noodle lunch waiting for me and David, but now Mom could sometimes only manage to make a bologna  or peanut butter jelly sandwich. I ate quickly and rushed David because I wanted to get back to school for recess. I wanted to flee the cold lassitude of home.