My Life, My Choice

Prologue

"Why did you decide everything alone? Before you do anything, you must consult me, right? I'm not a puppet that you can control whenever you want." Tears welled up in the eyes of my mother.

"You must sympathize with me. As spouses, we should happy and miserable together. I have no choice. Well, you temporarily stay at home to take care of Abony. I'll earn money for our family," my father replied.

"So, what about my dream? You are selfish. I'm leaving, I can't stay in this shitty place." Turned away, she said.

"It's up to you. If you want to go, I can't stop you." Sat on the chair, my father lowered his voice.

Without answering with a red face, my mother went out. Overheard the conversation but did not good at understanding; I just expected personal my mother to teach me how to draw.

"Mom, I want to draw a sunset. Could you teach me?" Following in her footsteps, I asked in confusion.

"I'm having a headache, you can play by yourself." She put her finger on her temple.

Sprinting to the lawn beside the stream, I scribbled on the white paper and kept grinning with a strange happiness. After listening to a phone call, the eyes of the mother turned cold. Walking over and kissing my forehead, she entered the house and got out in a flash. With the thud of suitcase wheels on the ground, my father sat looking at her with lifeless eyes.

"Mom, where are you going?" My eyes widen.

"I'm gonna the tearoom." She replied but did not turn back.

"Okay... Hope you come back soon and teach me how to draw."

"Sure, baby." She nodded and walked away.

Nevertheless, I sat by the window where the parrot danced in the cage. Waited one day, two days, three days... She never came back... Only the voice of the parrot repeated:

"Lie! Lie!"

***

I lived in an inn room with my parents in Water City. The room was narrow, listened to my parents said it was only 16m2. My whole family ate, slept, and went to the bathroom in the same place. Moreover, the suffocation wrapped around my soul; this room killed my private space. One might think a seven-year-old girl had no need for privacy; conversely, they were wrong; I had Fairyland dreams.

At night, my family slept together on an old mattress. Resting my feet on the moldy wall, I dream of a fragrant flower field.

One sunny day, my father went home and shouted as if ordering:

"Pack up, quickly. Both of you! We have to get out of here. RIGHT NOW."

"Where are we going?" Eyebrows of my mother raised.

"Hurry up, we're going to be late for the train. Do it and I'll explain later."

Hurried, my mother and I packed up clothes and necessary items into the suitcase until it swelled. Following my father out of the inn, he took a taxi to take us to the train station. The train began to roll while something frightful in my throat, accordingly, I started vomiting, vomiting until exhausted, and fell asleep without realization. Preparing for an adventure in my dream, some hand patted my cheek. That was my mother, who took my hand and pulled me off the train despite my sleepiness. After walking for a while, we stood on a dirt road, looking at a wooden sign: "Wind Town".

"Wow, is this a wonderland, dad?" I exclaimed in joy.

The two adults laughed at my statement, but I ignored it because perhaps they did not understand me. Looking at the scenery with sparkling eyes, the sound of the stream gurgling, the scent of plants and trees mixed with the smell of the earth, the mysterious hill in the distance, sparse houses tens of kilometers apart, and as well... the sweet fragrance like fresh milk of the blooming rice season. Run and jump, my arms outstretched as if I wanted to fly into the air.

Passing a market, we met a bird dealer. Feeling a strong attraction to a cute parrot as it tilts its head to look at me. Saw that I liked it, so my father decided to buy it, despite objections from my mother.

Along the way, mother frowned at her annoying expressions. She was a singer in three tearooms: Burn Love, Sweet, and Honey; how could she work? I did not know, but I could not worry too much because it was her business. Empathizing with her frustration though I was seven ages because I loved her fresh river voice and knew her dream of becoming a famous singer.

Moving into a small wooden house, my mother asked my father why he got this house; he said it was property inherited from my grandfather. No hesitate pouted, she said this was not better than the inn. Indeed, this house only has one bedroom. It can not call a room because separated from the living room by a wooden wall but not a door subsequently.

"Did you just come into this village? I am Denise, my house is right next door. I have some fish oatmeal to bring to you. If you need help, give me a call." Brought a bowl of oatmeal, she went straight to my house.

With a gentle smile, Mrs. Denise had a chubby figure, short legs, and curled hair. Embarrassing, my mother said she did not know how to face her hospitable, friendly, but arbitrarily.

My house was next to a brook, behind a giant tree where the rocking chair hung. I played swing with no mind-eating and fell in love with fairy tales on the hill beyond the stream when flashing an idea of drawing mysterious stories, I ran immediately into the house to take my paint. Ordinarily, the one who taught me to draw was my mother; although my family was poor, she still bought me the best tools.

Since my mother had left, my father was always angry when I drew. Consequently, he threatened to throw away all my drawing tools and anything related to my mother.

"Dad, please, allow me to keep my drawing kits and her chain." My tears went down.

"Alright, but on the condition that you must never paint again." He touched the tears on my cheek.

Despite agreeing, I will never follow my promise at all.

He was ridiculous!