Our day starts at 5 a.m. I am not an early bird like my dad always said but it is as it is. Our life is scheduled, structured by people who know what is good for all of us. Those people tell us when to wake up when to eat, drink, relax and sleep. In my entire life, I never set a foot outside and the only bird I saw was in a book. An old book precious to my mom. She showed it to me but I can not take it if I like to read it on my own.
"Some things are not done honey bee," dad said as I told him, "it's for your good not to mention the book. It's the best for all of us."
At that moment he looked sad. I bit my tongue for his sake although I had no idea how a book could do that to him.
I am not sure if the sign 'Home Sweet Home' is true for everyone but to me it is. It is at the end of the morning after my parents did their job and spend time with me. It was dad who made the sign long before I came to this world. The letters are different than I am used to but I can read the text. It's something I do if I pass by. I hope our life will always be good. There's no need to learn how to cook, there's no reason to leave them.
My mom is the one who taught me how to read at a young age. It wasn't easy but she said I need it and the world and its history would open its gates for me. She taught me maths and history too. The history of the world, humankind and what she called biology. Dad says she is good at it and once was a great scientist. He looked proud so proud as he said that but never answered my question. What is a scientist?
Unclear to me is their present job. What is it they have to do to make a living? At first, I was curious, next I asked. First dad, next mom but both started joking around and never answered.
"We'll tell you once you are old enough to understand," mom said months later while she wrapped her arms around me, hugged and tickled me. Her hug was tight. I could hardly breathe. It felt as if I she feared they would take me away from her any minute.
Mom smelled nice, sweet and that's why I love her so much. It comforts me, she comforts me so I didn't say: I am old enough to understand.
This morning as I woke up I felt different. Something changed. I couldn't tell what it was. My parents looked and behaved the same. They did what they always did. Dad watched the screen while mom accepted the delivered food that was placed into a small cabinet next to our door. Like every morning she held her hand against the small reader that was built inside.
The food was always delivered after ten. At that time I wasn't allowed to be in the hallway. Once I tried to sneak in there and planned to peep inside the cabinet. It was dad who saw me and pulled me away.
"Never try that again," he whispered. He pushed me into the closet and told me to be quiet till it was time to eat.
I never did it again. From that day on my dad made a game out of hiding in the closets. After the delivery, he came looking for me. I am surprised I never discovered the door to the pantry.
After our meal dad spends time with me.
"Let's give mom some rest," he said, "in the meantime, you can read me a book or I can tell you a story."
"No cooking lessons today," I asked.
"Later dear, if she's ready."
I heard mom groan and didn't know what to think about it.
"Stretching, she's doing a yoga stretch or so."
"Yoga?"
"It's good for the body. Body and soul that's what she told me as we met."
Dad laughed and couldn't stop laughing as I asked him if he could show me some yoga.
"Yoga is not for me dear he laughed. The body and soul thing I consider as a waste of time and I'm not the only one. All these old believes no longer exist, not where we live, not in a world like ours. There's no need to. All those ideas about different lifestyles will not make us stronger. Security does, a nice home does, knowing you are needed, you are useful does. The luxury we have today we never had back then."
It was the first time dad shared his thoughts about the greatness of the world we lived in. Laying next to him in his cabin I thought about his words. He said he didn't need yoga and it was a good thing others took care of our worries, body and soul. If that was the case how come mom started with this yoga stretching again and why does she want me to cook? She never cooked, dad never did so why me.
I searched into my memory for answers but all I found was emptiness. The emptiness of too many unanswered questions except for mom's words: times changed and that whispering voice saying: you know what to do.
Day 1: What's cooking?
Prompt used: Yoga stretch
