Pork Chop, Apple and Serial Killer. Part II.

I am thrust forward to the six grade —

I was standing at the corner by the classroom door; I had seen my mother climb the stairs and now she was walking down the passageway toward me. She took out the stuff from a bag and gingerly unwrapped the layered cloth, inside was a lunch pail, warm to touch. The meal had been freshly made at home and she carried it through five minutes walk to the school. She did this every day.

Back to the seat, I saw the girl, pale and thin, a seat ahead of me put a red delicious apple on her desk. A quotidian sight at lunch time. Oh, how I wished I could have one every day too! I then wished I myself could bring my lunch to the school, just like others. I kept these wishes to myself.

One day the girl confided me that because of her weak constitution, her daily supplement, in addition to the apple, also included ginseng.

It dawns on me now that I have been feeding my own family the same way my mother fed me; I believe in drawing nutrients from freshly made food. Hey, apple girl, where are you?

Another story that I learned only a few years ago pops up in my head. The story occurred at the time (at age four or five, maybe?) when Matt was beginning to self-learn the meaning of more complicated words:

At breakfast, whenever he saw the milk and cereal, he would stay alert and swallowed them slowly down his throat, hoping to lessen the feel of the chills being simultaneously sent down his spine. He was pretty sure there was a serial killer lurching somewhere in the background and could come out to get him any minute while he was eating the milk and cereal. After all, that’s what “cereal killer” meant.

Hmm … He kept that frightening thought to himself.