Joy

Did other kids’ fathers bring them along to go fishing and see baseball games like they did in the storybooks I read? Did other kids get to go on vacation every summer and travel the world? The only life I knew was my own, the life where my mother spent every waking hour taking care of my father and me, where I did my schoolwork and helped around the house when I had the chance. Did other kids actually get allowance money for doing the dishes and mowing the lawn? If my mother had ever given me money for doing what I was supposed to, I don’t know what I would have done with it. Perhaps I would’ve bought one of the comic books I saw outside the hospital when I tagged along with my mother to my father’s dialysis treatment every morning. After I next found my mother in the emergency room, I did not know what to think. Would her panic attacks allow her to ever drive again? Who would take care of us? As I transitioned into high school, I began to hear things I had never noticed before. I knew I’d always hear the complaints about not getting the latest cellphone or the addicting new videogame. But I had never seen people frustrated that they didn’t understand their schoolwork, even after their parents helped them. I had never thought that my friends would complain about their parents pushing them too hard. I started to realize all that I had missed in past years. Did my parents ever push me that hard? With all they had to worry about, they didn’t need other concerns. And yet they were so proud of me; they still cheered for me whenever I won a piano competition or a Chinese speech contest even when they couldn’t physically attend. It had just never occurred to me how difficult my life might seem to others. I hadn’t thought that it might seem strange to have to ask a friend for a ride whenever I had to attend any extracurricular activities. I recognize my differences now. I take the bus instead of driving my own personal car. I study extra and do chores when my peers might go out and enjoy themselves. But what does it matter? Last month my father came for the first time in four years to watch my marching band perform. I was happy.