On The Old Red Table.
On the old red table, only the three of us are the ones who could gather. Some left, literally, and some left for good and better reasons. It was not as good as before when you were still on your throne. You didn’t dethrone by anyone but death. The pain was the only thing that could get you there. I couldn't do anything but sigh and cry. Said goodbye eventually because you informed us so. If you ask us if we were hurt–our answer would probably be one-sided—yes. We always share stories, noises, and most of all, the main dish on our table: drama. The drama was the thrill, consequences were the hindrances. It is now quiet, and it feels like there was no person sitting next to the table. How would you feel when this is the scenario that will unfold these imaginary things? Red is no longer suitable for your table. It is not that the memories are hurting my eyes but solely the color. Don't you worry, if ever we have something to replace on your table, that is no other than the color of your table. It is not that the eyes are hurting but it reminds me of you. And that was the thing we hate the most.
I suddenly remember that on your old red table where we used to eat happily and exchange laughter. We used to eat together and smile. Even though the frogs were noisy like an orchestra, we didn't endure them because of the served stories while taking the food you cooked—on the old red layered table, you will never forget and will even say some precious words—How are you? What was your plan for college? I will never forget this. Those were the last words I remember. "Please, persevere further", she silently pleads. I had no other answer than yes. But when I look down, why did you disappear and never show up to us? Is this the twist you would want us to solve? Was this the drama we watched after all?
I believe that the old red table I remember we used to use for dining before will never be the same as before—that is full of rice cake you have recently known. You eagerly searched for its recipe, and you said will be a hot recipe if we try to sell it. I was happy because you eventually found something you could spend your time doing while at home. But then it seems like you were just entertaining us and preparing for the day you will say goodbye to us. It hurt badly, please. You were the one that remind me of the things I see in your house. Your man can't resist and find another one. No one of us can do anything because of the words he believes in. How would we fight a closed-ear guy?
The season reminds me of this story. It took me a month to finish this not because I enjoy my vacation but because it feels heavy every time I continue writing. It was cold when the last time we saw you happy and enjoying the eve. You were complaining to us and asked if we could let you eat the food you missed, and your children said yes. Little did we know, that was the last time you could eat the food you love the most. Weeks after, you ended up eating canned corn and vegetables which the doctor prescribed. Little did I know that when the night when I recorded myself singing Godsent by my favorite artist was the sign I should say that the person He sent to us will eventually say goodbye. I hope we could celebrate New Year's Eve together again, grandma. The drama will continue, your story will always be remembered.
Thank you for reading this article.
You can read my previous articles here:
The First Interlude In Our Second Chapter.
How Do You Remember Your Teachers?
Reflecting on Some Lessons That Life Might Want me to Learn.
Things That Shaped my Childhood.
The First Distribution of Stipend I Attended.
