There was an awkward moment of silence on the dinner table, all I could hear was the sound of me sobbing. Even though I was staring into to floor, I felt as if there were a thousand eyes staring at me, trying to suck me into their black, bottomless pupils. My throat started to tighten, my body began to shiver, and the air around me began to densify themselves. Tears, along with drops of sweat rolled down from my face furiously, I felt as if the sun was pressing down at me and that I would melt like a block of ice under this incredible intense heat.
“Henry, you know, we should really unload the trucks after meal before it draws itself some hungry crows around it.” Finally, my father spitted out some words his food-stuffed mouth. The heat was starting to go off as I was able to find my breath back. “Laird, wanna come along?” My father smiled casually as he spoke. That’s the words which I feared to hear, but I couldn’t care less, the fact that I had lost the trust of my father or that Laird has become the next “ hired man” of my father did not seem very new nor unexpected to me. With everybody’s attention gradually shifting away from me, I slinkingly reached for my fork, picked off the unpalatable vegetable, and started chewing and swallowing as my throat still tightened. The crying had made me loose all my appetite, the tears made my cheek draw tight and my lips harder to move. After I’ve finished I did not go for my seconds as I usually had, instead I cleaned after myself and stepped straight into my room, not caring whether my mother needed me in the kitchen or my father needed me in the barns. They probably didn’t need my help, anyways. I thought to myself.
I was in desperate need of a quiet, peaceful place, and my room was that perfect spot right at that moment. I sat in front of my mirror. Looking in, I saw a girl whose hair was unkempt form disappointment, whose eyes were dampened form sadness, and whose cheek was red from embarrassment. I saw a face of confusion, of frustration, of self-doubt. I saw a face that wasn’t really familiar to me. I felt weak. “You are lost,” I told myself. Henry’s laughter and Laird’s shouts of delight from downstairs surrounded my ear. Surprisingly enough, for some reason I did not blame Laird for telling on me, but I know the Laird now was different from the Laird I had always known, they are completely opposites, to be exact. The Laird I used to know were an obedient, helpless little boy, but the Laird now was more independent, a “semi-man” as my father would call him. Am I what I am? A girl who can only help her mother in her kitchen work and later stay in the kitchen, never tries to step out of the house for the rest of her life? A deep feeling of hopelessness emerged from me. I clearly did not want to have my distant future all planned out before me. The more I thought the more terribly confused I am. Gradually the physical after effect of sobbing took over, I felt tired and sleepy, eventually I could not keep my eyes from shutting, my head felt heavy, and there I laid flat on the table.
I t wasn’t long (at least it did not feel long to me) before I felt somebody tapped me lightly on the shoulder, before I know who it was a voice flew into my eardrums, “Are you alright, my dear? Is there anything wrong?” Instantly I knew it was my mother who’s talking. “Yes, mom, I’m fine. I’m just taking a nap,” I replied. “Well it certainly did not look like that you are having nap to me, did you notice that the window was open the whole time? You could easily catch a cold from this.” My mother spoke with some anxiety. It was not until then I had realized how cold the room actually was. I glimpsed at the window, it was wide open with the glimmering light of sunset shining through- I must have slept for quite a long time. “I’m sorry, mother,” I apologized as I was getting ready to take some blame. “Don’t worry my dear, no need to feel sorry about it,” my mother said with a kind smile hanging on her face. There’s a long pause in the room which left me feeling as if we were strangers who ran out of words to say. I thought she would just close the window for me and lead me downstairs, but to my surprise, she sat down on my bed and continued talking. “You know dear, sometimes your father can be really harsh a man, so…” “I understand mother” I interrupted before she can go on,” I do have any concerns at all with my father.” But I know full well from the bottom of my heart that I was lying. “That’s good, the last thing I want my girl to have is a broken heart,” said mother with relief. I raised my head and looked her straight in the eye, for a moment a warming current flowed through my body as I saw the eyes of a mother with deep love of her children. “So what exactly are you worrying about?” my mother asked with wonder. “Nothing, I’m perfectly fine mother. I just felt sad about poor old Flora.”Again I couldn’t tell the truth, couldn’t tell my issue with my identity even to one of the people who loves me the most in this world. It was just too much for me to say it out loud, to share with another person in this world. “Well, okay my dear. But I have a few words to say to you.” She looked me in the eye, “Recently I have noticed you trying to make your part of the room fancier, you know, with all this beautiful beddings and laced curtains. That is certainly a good sign,” she continued, “Well, you know, all I am trying to say is… how do I say this so you won’t get upset…” She stuttered as she was trying to choose the right word. I had never seen this side of my mother before, soft, sensitive, and warm. She was always busy with her work and talked to me only if she felt like doing so, the fact that she used her personal working time to talk to me definitely touched me a lot. “It’s okay, mother go on.” I encouraged. “You know dear, this age is an important age for girls, and I just don’t want you to go off the wrong track,” she swallowed, “I mean, all I am trying to say here is that no matter how much you loved working with your father on the farms or playing outside, you have to spend some time in the kitchen with me now, doing what a girl your age was suppose to do.” “You mean I should work in the kitchen more then, mother?” “Yes, my dear, but this is not for me, it’s to prepare for your future, because you are a girl.” There, she has just nailed my very problem, I did not, however, feel too surprised anymore when I heard the phrase “you are a girl”, but instead, I learned to accept the bitter reality, the inconvenient truth. “Is that a girl has to do throughout her life?” I asked, “Is that her responsibility?” “I’m afraid so my dear.”
Thirty years have passed, every time I tried to recall my childhood, I still deeply believe that the talk with my mother is what eventually shaped my future. Now I am a mother of three child, two boys and one girl. My oldest son is ten now and my only girl is thirteen. Up until this day, this question still lingers deep in my heart, even though it supposed to be the question that was solved a long time ago, the question that continually bothered me for more than thirty years - why are boys and girls has to be diffrent from each other?
