Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Funny how life is so the same, but oh so different. I wake up and have coffee and breakfast while the kids gather themselves for the day. We get ready to do school most days, the same. We eat lunch, the same. We try to keep the house clean, the same. We love cookies and fruit, the same. We learn, the kids fight, they make up, we laugh, we love, all the same.
But as I walk into town to get my groceries for the day, I hear the sound of mah jong being played from an empty window. This is a familiar sound that is never far away, and I often peer into an half opened door way to a game being played in a tiny living room and the laughter and singsong of cantonese spilling out onto the street. Not the same. We pass the temple and smell the freshly lit incense and have another discussion of why people worship a dead god with the kids. Not the same. We chase the wild dogs away from following us. Not the same. We see the many many small shrines on people's front steps with incense and fruit offerings. Not the same. We pass people who's faces have become familiar but we have no ability to say anything beyond 'jo shan' (good morning). Not the same. We pass the fisherman bringing in the fresh catch to be sold to the stalls we walk past every day. Not the same. I carry my groceries home in a red pull cart like most other people. Not the same.
Some days like today I am struck by how the 'not the same' as becoming the same. I love that.