dependents

On the train, I saw a boy walking around. His behavior was abnormal. He kept talking to himself, laughing to himself, walking to window panes and put his face to them (we are by the way still in the tunnel) and gazing out of them. I could not help but stare for a while at him, and then shrank back into my seat. I’m not mocking at him, looking down at his type of people, judging him. It’s just that I realize that maybe it’s just by a very small chance that I’m brought across the line, and I could have very well ended like him.

I started to wonder about his family, about his parents, trying to imagine their concerns, their worries which somehow would never end, if not increase. He will grow up, but how will he grow old? I guess sometimes we could really see the goodness in people when we just look at some parents. It takes courage and love to not abort the child during pregnancy, even more to raise him up, to teach his other siblings as well to love him.

It’s through looking at them I see my pathetic self. I doubt I’ll ever able to be like them. I rather escape, to take as little responsibilities for dependents as possible. The notion of ending up in their circumstance frightens me, and I know I rather want zero probability for that happening.

Yet I could not run away from the inevitable – aging. It’s not too while ago I help one old man carry a wooden board to his block from the refuse of a construction site. He is limping, relying on his crutch. He could not even articulate. I understood him by his gestures. As I walked to the destination, I think my mind is more preoccupied with the possibility of ending up like him than reaching the destination.

I’m not anyone great. I can’t think of what I would do if ever such a time comes. Maybe it’s better to take a step at a time, as I’ve always, and see what happens.