Memories of her, childhood, that came back to life in her mother's elderly years…connecting the two, generations…translated…
Awhile ago, my mother's backyard had a flock of black-boned hens, with the all-black or all-white feathers on them, while their bones are, all, black, you can't see their eyes from their, black faces, and their calls were, especially, loud too, they'd started, making the noises, day, and night.
The backyard was their, playground, they'd fed, and done their business there, all the vegetation in my mother's backyard, completely, cleared, out, not a single weed around. These males originally, behaved themselves in my mother's, backyard, and yet, a hen came into the mixtures. This unique hen, seemed to have been a mix of the wild-raised hens and the free-range, at first, she'd, eaten the feed, behaved herself with the rest, then, started, showing her, wild, side, led the flock of black-boned roosters rushed over to the front lawns to stroll.
illustration from UDN.com
If I'd, started, chasing them away, all the black-boned ones, all rushed in a panic, into the backyard, only that hen stood her ground, still stayed and pecked in the front yard, strolled, leisurely.
Every time around sundown, the black-boned roosters would, stay in the backyard, to sleep, only that hen, flew, high up onto that rack in the front yard, closes her eyes, to rest. The hen may cared, that she's living under someone else's "roof", and that she'd gone all over the place, she'd felt bad over it, so she'd started, laying the eggs in a set location on the backyard, to give back to my mother, giving my mother fresh eggs.
The hen continued doing its business where we parked our cars, where we'd gone in and out of the house, on the, front yard, made a mess of the environment, and we couldn't, handle it, so one night, when my mother fell asleep, we placed her into a sack, stuffed her into the trunk fast, and, drove her far away, to release her back to the wild. After that, we'd, given away the black-boned roosters one by one too, thus, ending the fowl raising history of my mother's home.
Several months later, as I just pass the automatic entry check at the Taoyuan Airport, I received a text from my family's LINE group, said that my mother contracted MERS-CoV, worried that if I'd returned, I may catch it too, that I should, cancel my trip home. But I'd already, prepared, because she was ill, that was why I'd, scheduled the trip home, to care for her.
the memories of the childhood of the writer...photo found online
That enormous living room, the sunlight dying at dusk, my mother was leaning against the window, frail, and weak. "Thank you for coming back to care for me", she'd smiled lightly. Why is she thanking me, at this moment, I just want to, protect her.
Having contracted the virus, my m other didn't have enough strength in her legs when she walked, her hands trembled too, to the point she couldn't, eat with a spoon. I was responsible for feeding her, but she didn't have enough of an appetite, couldn't swallow. I recalled how we'd raised a flock of hens, sometimes, opening the kennels, allowing them to peck the feed in the yard. At lunch, my mother took out a small stool, told me in a uplifted voice, "come, let's go see the hens.", so, the two of us sat in the yard, she'd said, "look, they're, here.", I'd tilted my head to look for them, and, the spoonful of food stuffed into my, mouth. And just like that, a look at the hens, a bite, spoon by spoon, slowly, I'd, finished my, meals.
And so, I'd, copied my mother's ways, "mom, do you remember that hen that came out of, nowhere?", she'd nodded, "she's back her." She'd, smiled, like she was, seeing that, bully hen again.
And, at this time, I'd, carefully, fed a spoonful of foods into my mother's, mouth, mom chewed on the foods a bit, I was, secretly, hooraying to myself then. "she'd flown onto that rack, fallen, asleep now.", as I'd told, I'd, scooped up a spoonful of food. I'm calculating, that this bowl of food, with the story of that alpha female hen's story, I should be able to get her to, eat it all, up.
So, this is the importance of memories in the elderly years, like how this woman, who's mother lacked the appetite, but when her daughter helped her recalled the alpha female hen they used to have, the mother became, activated again, like something called out to her, and she'd, started, eating again, and the woman was able to help her mother finish her bowl of food intake that her mother needed to, recover.
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