The Other Side Of Love

The narrow four story house is dark with the exception of the bottom floor. The shuffling in the kitchen is my aunt preparing dinner and my uncle unsuccessfully trying to help. At the slightest sound his eyes shoot toward the door and her neck cranes to see if there is anyone at the gate. There is a longing in the way they walk and the way they go on day after day. The not so distant hum of the busy street outside holds the hope that one of their own might be heading home. Their daughters are grown with families of their own and this aging couple simply yearns to be part of their children’s lives.

A table crammed with food waits. My aunt never got use to cooking for small crowds. As if I were a fly on the wall I watch the two of them fall into a routine that seems like second nature. He gets out the rice and she sets the table. We sit staring at the food waiting for my cousin and her husband to arrive so that we can eat. My aunt and uncle make small talk with each other and with me, but at the rustle of a paper or any movement at all I watch their hearts jump and their eyes move toward the door.

There is a phrase in Vietnamese “mong con ve” which roughly translates to “longing for children to come home”. Such a complete yet difficult love when I really look at it. Being the child literally halfway around the world I try not to think about it in the context of my own parents, lest it break my heart. Children inevitably grow up and if parents do their jobs right, children sprout wings and fly. How often have I really looked back? How much can I actually grasp the complexity of that love?

I can’t say after witnessing the other side, that I understand it completely. I don’t know many loves. My love for my family is truly unconditional, but I also take for granted that they will always be there. My friends, the select few I hold close to my heart and soul, I truly believe will stick with me forever. Romance is another kind of love that bares a resemblance in terms of longing and waiting. With this love though, I often look for mutual and equal affection and adoration. The love of a parent for his/her child seems so complete on its own; it doesn’t seek reciprocation in the same way.

I love all my loves, but I think I appreciate it all just a little bit more having seen the other side.