“Who’s that?” I looked behind me to see an old lady looking over the picture I was holding. She is one of the many people who have to leave home to live in a nursing home. She is one of the people who I believe have the unlucky fate of living with strangers in a world that is different from what they are used to. (Seaver)
I smiled at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” I gently placed the picture back into my wallet, stood up and arranged the pillow around Salve. She complacently lied back again and quickly fell asleep. Just as I was straightening up one of the nurses went in the room to check on Salve. “Hey, is everything okay here?” “Yes,” I replied. “She’s sleeping already.” Then, I headed to the door. “You’re leaving already,” he asked me as my hand went for the doorknob. “Yes. I have to work early in the morning.”
I went quietly through the corridor towards the main door. It was already ten o’clock at that time and only the nurses are awake. I walked towards my car parked just below the lamppost in front of the building. As I sat in front of my steering wheel, I felt an urge to glance back at the building; just in time to see the lights in Salve’s room go out. I took the picture off my wallet and, once again, looked the face of my mother.
I last saw my mother several years ago. She was waving at me as I made my way into the restricted part of the airport. Looking back, I think I might have felt guilty leaving her alone. You see, I am not an American. I am really from Rio de Janeiro. I left my hometown, my country and my mom in search for a better life. My future is not beside her. My future is here, with all the opportunities around me just within my grasp.
I know why I felt the need to look at my mother’s picture while Salve was asleep. Earlier that night, Salve was telling of the story why she was here. She said she has two daughters and one son. All of them have a life of their own. They cannot take care of her anymore. Therefore, her children agreed to send her here. I know her story by heart. This is the same story she tells me everytime I visit her.
That is what reminded me of my mother. I think my mother’s and Salve’s situations are similar. I know I will never put my mother in a nursing home. I was raised believing that children have a responsibility to care for their old parents. That is what I am doing now. The money I am earning here helps make my mother’s life in Rio de Janeiro better. However, at the back of my mind, I doubt. Am I no different with Salve’s family? Is leaving my mother alone the best for the two of us or only for me? Salve has a different world from her children’s because her children placed her in a different world. (See Seaver) I have a different world than my mother because I left her world to find my own.
I know that her children only wanted the best for her. It is just like I wanted the best for me and my mother. We all get the best of both worlds. Salve has a good place to live. My mother receives adequate money for her survival. Salve’s children and I can have our own life. It is perfect except that we all lose one thing we all should treasure. We all lose our families.
I think this is the curse of need. Had life been easier, people would have been happier. However, the reality is that life is not easy. People have to work and earn money, but jobs are too few. People who have work have to work hard because competition is fierce. Therefore, people like me have to leave their families to go to far places to study and work. People like Salve’s family and the families of other people in this nursing home have to leave their old parents’ here to be able to devote all their time at work. It is a sad fact of life. Values change. Priorities change. At present, work may be more important than family.
I thought of the last time I wrote to my mother. I cannot remember. It may be two weeks ago or a month ago. During my first few months here, I write to her almost every week. If I can, I will write everyday, but for someone like me who had no job yet then, the postage is very expensive. Six months after, I got my green card, and subsequently a job. Then, my letters got fewer. My job as a supervisor has a huge demand on my time. I go home too tired I cannot even lift my hand to hold a pen and write. Now, I can’t even track when is it that I am able to write letters anymore.
Maybe this is why I volunteer in this nursing home whenever I can. Subconsciously, I feel like I have neglected my mother and my family. I left my country not for them, but for myself. I help them, but more importantly, I help myself. My ability to make their lives better is a by-product of my ability to make my life better. Looking back at her photograph, I wonder if my mother misses me, because tonight, I miss her.
It is with thought that I looked at my watch and realized that 20 minutes have passed since I sat on my car. The nurses and staff inside the building are probably wondering why they have not heard me leave yet. I kept my mother’s picture again and gave one last look at the building from where I came. Then I look at Salve’s room and wonder what she’s dreaming about. Is she missing her family?
It is with this thought that I started my engine. I cannot stay for another minute. I have to go. I have to go to work tomorrow early; and I still have to write a letter before I sleep. (Word Count: 1057)
Work Cited
Seaver, Anna Mae Halgrim. “My World Now.” Newsweek. 27 June 1994. Also available at 25 Oct. 2004. Stacy’s Solipsism 4 April. 2007 <http://msstacy13.burningpaper.net/archives/005173.html>.
