cccxdftilkjluyuy

 I wish I would keep this to myself.  That cursed mouth.  That cursed tongue.  

Mom and I were walking at wakefield lake.  That's a long walk for her.  It's been a long time now that she has trouble walking because she broke her knee once.  She was doing something, possibly laundry, and one of the light went off.  So she took a chair we kept in the basement.  She climbed on it, but the chair was designed kind wobbly, she lost her balance and fell.  From then on, she has trouble walking.  

Those chairs were remnants from my uncle.  When we hurried out of my uncle's house after constant commotion during our first 6 months at state side, uncle gave us some of his old furniture.  During our 1 year stint with a rental property, he told me those chairs were wobbly and told me to warn my mom not to stand on it.  It's wobbly, everybody can see that.  My mom should not stand on it.  In my mind, I was laughing at the idea that my mom would even attempt to climb those chairs.  

My mom constantly bring the incident up because the injury never really go away.  In the beginning, she say it was all because of uncle for he gave us these wobbly chairs.  Once my uncle heard about the fall, the first thing he said was he already told me to warn her.  My mom was surprised to hear it.  Because in her recollection, I had never told her.  The problem for me now is I was the cause of the fall.  I cannot remember I told her either.  After being asked by uncle and my mom, I kept asking that question.  At first I admitted I did not tell her.  She said if I had had told her,  she would've thrown those chairs out a long time ago.  But now through so many year, I guess I wish to find a way to relieve myself of the quilt, I started to feel that in some occasion, I must've told her.  But of course, I am not sure at all.  

Yesterday we were walking at wakefield lake.  She told me the same story again.  I am extremely upset every time I hear it.  And this time too.  Seeing me being this upset, she said when she said something if I had something to say I should say it too.  I just could not hold my tongue, I told her that hearing the story again was just unbearable, it's like a murderer being confronted with a reality: what can he do in the face of what he has done.  And I also said I could not believe you really get up on the chair.  Did she not see how wobbly it was??  Nothing went right from that point on.  

When I heard the story, I kept telling myself, don't be so serious.  When she first started to notice my upset, she kept telling me, it's the truth, it's a fact.  I guess the truth set her free.  But I cannot face the reality.  

You know what would eric or roger do?  they would've thrown out those chairs upon seeing them.  I just cannot face hearing the story without agitation.  She said she cannot tell even aunt PL about uncle, and I do wish that she could at least say it to me.  How come I cannot hold my tongue.