Over the last couple of months, guilt had been a major part of my daily life. I never stopped feeling sorry for myself and for the choices that I made. I never stopped wishing that the past be slightly different and the present be more enjoyable. I wished I had gone home. I wished I didn’t think staying was the best decision for me at that time.
Yet, even though staying wasn’t the best choice, it was the most suitable choice. Bellingham is a great place to stay amid a pandemic because it’s not packed with irresponsible people, while I stay home most of the time, and I had too much going on to finish in a week and pack up to go home anyway.
So after all, I chose what I was supposed to choose. And that’s all that matters. Or maybe can say that it doesn’t matter otherwise.
That wasn’t the first decision I had ever made, but it was one of those times when my parents entrusted me on a major turning point of life. At the time, it didn’t seem to be that big of a deal, and perhaps it won’t, ever, but the lessons I learned from it can have a long-lasting impact on me.
I learned that being an adult doesn’t mean choosing the right thing to do. Adults’ choices are not the best ones ever, yet adults are adults because THEY ARE RESPONSIBLE for the consequences. I have come to accept that there are many uncertain paths awaiting me – some are ideal while others raise adversities – and I’m not expected, especially not by my loved ones, to walk down the right one and get it right on my first attempt. I have said I was lucky to have people who allow flaws in my life. Who let room for errors. Who forgive, not for once, or twice, but for 7×7 times and over. And I continue to believe that I will find those wherever I go.
So there, the one lesson I reminded myself of today. I have known about this for a long time, but it took me long to learn this the hard way. But I come to the conclusion my own way, anyway, right?
I also have become more like my Mom. My memory is as bad as hers now. And I cook what she used to cook that I didn’t like eating. I made cá kho today, and I ate the head because I wanted to leave the best part for Jeff and Emily, and that’s what Mom had always done. And she would say she loved it, but I doubt that now. I think even if I know her caring for me, I would still go home and be a baby and let her give me the best part, for after all, a baby going as far as she had gone is still a baby.