ikea

I... see... old... people.

Went to Ikea today for the last few batches (hopefully) of accessorizing my new house and room. As usual, the weekend crowd was stifling, but the exceptional phenomenon today was the demographics. I see old people everywhere. It's not a sudden hostile invasion by Planet Septuagenaria. These folks have been around and about all the time I'm sure, but habitually I just see them and smile to the occasional genial, non-frowning ones, and go on my merry way. I see but I don't see. And today I saw. And start to think what it is going to be like for my parents to grow... old. I saw this old lady staring into space, mechanically rocking a toddler in a shopping cart back and forth, back and forth... and I imagined Mum like this. I saw this old man hungrily wolfing down pastry, crumbs dropping all over the place, oblivious to passer-bys... and I imagined Dad like that. Sure, my parents are no longer young and energetic, being more than half a decade old. But still it pains me to imagine them with wispy white hair and hunched and wobbly one day in the future.

When we're young we think our parents are invincible. As we grow older we see their mistakes and realize that they too, are human. And we can't wait to leave home, away from the incessant nagging, away from stringent house rules. Then when we're finally out in the world by our own... there'll be moments when we miss them terribly and just want to cuddle with them in bed on stormy nights, cry on their shoulders when things don't go our way, have a simple home-cooked meal and talk about the day's happening...

I miss my parents. This very moment. So much. I'm overwhelmed with love for my parents, and I don't understand why every time when I go home for a short stay we'll end up quarrelling. Mum's nagging becomes increasingly irritating. Dad's reminiscing his glory days becomes boring and pretentious. However much I love my parents I don't know how to love them in the way they understand and appreciate. I want to spend all my holidays with them at home but there are so many more other "youthful" and enjoyable things to do, and when I do stay home for a long visit we'll end up fighting. I want to bring my parents away on a holiday, a family trip (our last was when I was 11) but I cannot afford a good destination, and the family members all have different days off. Frustration leads to ignorance, and time washes all feelings and dreams away.

Right this moment, I just want to record down the immense love I have for my parents. Whatever mistakes we all made, whatever bad things we thought and said about each other. I know that if I just let this thought - this love - pass from my mind, I'll grow numb again tomorrow and our busy lives will just continue as it is. With Mum calling me once a week to catch up, and Dad writing the occasional email reprimanding Brother and I for not keeping in touch or going home for a visit.

How do I love? How should I love my parents?

Today, I received my first bouquet of ad hoc flowers. Ad hoc because it's not my graduation convocation or birthday. The flowers are for my moving into this new home. The pink daisies are gorgeous and smell delicious. But since it's my first ever bouquet from a boyfriend for no reason at all, I screwed up my execution of "gesture of appreciation". And pissed off the giver big time. Sigh. Etiquette etiquette. I usually warn admirers (yes, I do have one or two sometimes) to not buy me bouquets, not because I hate flowers... no. I think bouquets are overpriced. And I'm allergic to certain super-pollen genres. I like flowers best when they're still breathing in the ground. Or sometimes when I walk around the marketplace, a certain few will beckon secretly to me with a promise to brighten up my space. I don't feel that connection with a bouquet. Somehow it feels plastic and overdressed - and overpriced. Call me realistic. Call me unromantic.

Yep, I must be a cactus or aloe vera person. And I need one for my toilet.