All the years C-Monster spent in teenage angst, vacillating between mild frustration and abject abhorrence to parental tyranny, vanished in the weeks leading to her Orange County trek. As expected, the parentals and she reached the apex of their appreciation for each other during this time. It's a natural evolution that takes hold of any household. Ironically, it's that very moment when harmony has been achieved, that parent and child must part ways.
My parents consciously avoided the feelings that they knew would strike them: “Today I lived without you for the first time. And after a full day in your absence, you still be gone when I awake tomorrow morning…” They would endure that burden once the young one left. While their daughter was still with them, they chose to celebrate the moment. Their youngest child had finally learned to appreciate the support her parents had showered her with over the years, a nurturing that exceeded their individual abilities and means. This sublime pleasantry was life-affirming.
And then the day came, the morning we packed C-Monster's necessities and departed for her new home. The parents were not traveling with us and were required to say goodbye in a restaurant parking lot. Tears flowed. And flowed. And bellowed. The Lady Shins' cry was a vocal manifestation of their collective bodies' ache. Real physical pain. It was agonizing to hear and experience. The weeping only ceased when they tacitly agreed to carry on silently, away from each other.
We hit the road. We sat in traffic. We looped the same CDs over and over again (Ingrid Michaelson, Iron and Wine, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs). We arrived at the dorms. We unpacked. We ate at Olive Garden. We fell asleep in a Marriott. We ate in a dining common. We said goodbye. More tears. We parted. We drove home with less weight in the car. We thought about each other from our four corners. Days passed. Weeks passed. Life moved forward as it always does. Life is good...
In the weeks proceeding C-Monster's departure, I make a conscious effort to visit my parents more frequently (made easier by Altimas Prime) as my parents were clearly afflicted with Empty Nest Syndrome. Every time I stay at my parents' abode, I make camp in C-Monster's old room, the vacant room. Every time I turn her television on, I am momentarily surprised to see ESPN as the first station that displays on the screen - only because that's the channel that was played during my last visit. The room goes unused. Or almost completely unused; my mom uses C-Monster's old computer each morning. To the left of the desk on which the computer sits are a handful of framed photographs of C-Monster. These photos collect no dust. And each time I go home, I'm certain these frames change position ever so slightly, as if somebody picked one up for a moment and tried to set it back in its proper place.
------------------------------------------------
For posterity’s sake, I’m sharing this video from LiNK, a non-profit organization committed to liberty of the North Korean people (please don’t confuse this group with PiNK – Punishment in North Korea, or BLiNK – Bad Luck in North Korea), ((I’m going double parentheses here – why is everyone so obsessed with acronyms?)). Anyway, skip to the 2:57 mark and follow the girl with the #25 above her head.
If you're too impatient to view the entire video, the basic premise is that the organizations' current initiative is to rescue 100 refugees. C-Monster represents the 25th of those who will be uplifted from suffering. That seems like a lot of pressure. Doesn't this mean that she will immediately feel a kinship with Refugee #25? Will she go out of her way to meet this person? To befriend this person? What if they actually got to talking? It would probably go something like this:
C-Monster: I portrayed you in a campaign that we did to raise money and awareness.
Refugee #25: I haven’t eaten in four days.
C-Monster: Yeah, you are number 25. We made you a jersey.
Ok, I’m going to stop…feeling insensitive.
Return to the GreensandBrowns home page.
