Edelweiss and other wildflowers pt. 2

This is the second chapter of my short novel.

Chapter Two:

Mei: The people in my life

I grew up mostly with my grandparents for nine years. This was good, I later on would realize. My parents were hardly ever around, but when they were, I often wished they weren’t.

I never knew happy discussions, I rarely new humor. I sought, but I seldom felt content at all. Survival instincts kick in when you live in a difficult environment.

My grandfather was your regular Chinese grandparent. Never spoiled me, always expected more. I grew used to the smack of the ruler against my behind, Though I never questioned him. He was a big part of my life. He was the one who taught me that life is difficult. Through more ways than one. I may not have always agreed with what he said, or thought his methods of punishment were right, but I understood that that was how things were in China at the time. When my mom was growing up, he was imprisoned for many years. When the communist party in China took over, the other party’s members were imprisoned. He couldn’t flee to Thailand like the rest of them so he gave up his freedom for quite a long time. Later I would find that being imprisoned runs in our blood, and is not uncommon in the Lin family.

In my household, perfection was expected, practically a given. My grandfather wasn’t perfect, but he seemed close. Every wrinkle in my grandfather’s face was a fold that contained wisdom, I was sure of it. He is someone I will always respect. 

My grandmother was calmer. She embodied the “feminine” role in my life that mothers in China were supposed to occupy. I suppose. Oddly, my mother didn’t.

My grandmother would cook for me everyday. I often secretly wondered if she was an animatronic posing as a human. She never seemed to tire, she always agreed with my grandfather as if he had programmed her to, and she worked with perfection.

I would later learn, that’s just how everything is nowadays  

My mom and dad fought a lot. He cheated on her before they were married and that really destroyed a part of her. In Shanghai, or just in China, it was very important not to lose face. To be seen as a strong beacon was the ideal. My mom tried, but her emotions got the better of her, and the worst came out. Cheating on someone in China was not a huge scandal. Especially if it is the man who cheated on his wife. “He deserves to have a break, just look at how hard he works. As long as the wife doesn’t know about it it’s alright.” These sexist commentaries were thrown at my mom who refused to conform to them. I suppose that was a good thing. I held nothing against my father for that matter. I wasn’t even very close with him to be honest. I wasn’t particularly close with anyone in my family.

Even now, my mom is a bucket of overflowing emotions flooding her vessel. If she wants to be offended, she will be. If she wants to be upset, she will find a way.

I never got along with her, I often resented her.

My cousin also lived with us for the nine years I was with my grandparents. He filled the void of a younger brother. When I was little, I used to brag about how I was older and more mature than him, even if it was just for a few months. He was a nice boy, but we didn’t really talk too much. If I needed to find him, his location was almost always in the main room toying with an old alarm clock trying to figure out how it worked. I was always a little jealous of his intelligence, but that isn’t really worth mentioning. 

This was something rather common for Chinese families to do, to send their kids to live with their relatives as their parents pursue their careers. My mom was in school and my dad had lots of work so I didn’t live with them. I often visited them, but when I did, it was strange. They didn’t feel like my parents. They felt like strangers I was told were my parents. This was weird for me growing up.

I always secretly wanted a bigger family, but not my family.

That seems like a terrible thing to say.

But it’s true.

Nick Robbins

I grew up in a slightly large family. 

Two sisters, Eleanor and Rachel.

Rachel was the oldest. I didn’t see her very often, so I never had a very close relationship with her growing up. However as I got older and more mature, I would be around her more. She was strong, confident, and always beat me in some way. One memory I can recall is when she insulted me, I decided to insult her back. While filtering through my four year old mind, the only thing I could think of was “big brain”. However, when I was young I had a lisp which made me pronounce my “r’s” like “w’s” so “big brain” came out “big bwain”.

“Stop it you… you… you… BIG BWWWAIN!”

This was a rather ineffective insult, and I ran off to my room crying.

I also mispronounced my sister’s name. Since Rachel’s name started with an “r” I would call her “Wachel”. My mom intervened one day and told me to pronounce it “rrrrrr”. I stood tall one day and tried to show her what a big boy I was.

“RRRRRRRRR-wachel”.

My other sister Eleanor (Ely) was also older than me, but not by as much. She would tease, harase, and constantly bring down my self-esteem. Shoving dirty socks into my mouth was something she did too often, that I simply grew used to the taste. Everyday at dinner, she would carry an “Archie and Jughead Double Digest” to the table to read with a bag of potato chips.

We also lived with my mom and my dad. My mom was the disciplinarian, even though compared to most parents at the time, she was quite calm. She possessed certain maternal attributes, attributes that were expected of women at the time. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of kids. But really, she was like a superhero, as cliche as that sounds. She also worked and took care of us kids for the most part. Soon the business took over. Her and my dad had to buckle down and it became harder to be there for us kids.

I often prided myself on my sense of humour, and my wit, both of which I got from my dad. He has an amazing ability to memorize and recite movie lines, a skill I am very thankful to have also received. My dad is slightly different than other dad’s. Most of my friends had dad’s who were disciplinarians, but my dad was not. Except for when I first got behind the wheel, but that’s a story for a different time. He was also not an enforcer of healthy eating since the only vegetable he ate was potatoes, either mashed or in chip form. 

I love my family dearly. They are my pillars, and I wouldn’t stand without them. I wouldn’t trade them for the world. And when times get tough, and problems arise, I’m always thankful to have them. So it’s hard to imagine how I would cope without them.