Mother – anger
My mother rarely raised her voice at us or physically punished us. But on those rare occasions that she became angry, her anger was often abrupt, explosive, and unpredictable. She was silent for a long time, and out of nowhere, she burst into the screaming rant, if not physically violent.
There was a day when my grandmother came grocery shopping with my mother and me. It was not usual that my grandmother came along, so I had a plan. I asked my grandmother to buy me a box of toy kitchen tools. My mother had been strict with the type of toys, and I had never played with miniature objects I adored. The only items my mother willingly bought us were books, coloring books, and paper dresses. My grandmother agreed to my request, so I held the box in my hands. I was then struck with a strange feeling that made a knot in my chest. My scheme realized so effortlessly that it felt anti-climatic. I immediately decided it should be a secret, and the toy had to be smuggled out. I hurried my grandmother to the cashier, and the very moment our turn arrived, my mother dashed toward us, grabbed the box from my hand, and yelled at me that I couldn’t have the toys and that how dare me to obtain the toy stealthily through my grandmother. I cried with a shock and shame of public humiliation and held onto my grandmother, who said she was sorry. But I was sorry for my grandmother, as I was able to sense mother’s anger might have been for my grandmother, from whom I asked for her sign of affection, and who was ready to give it to me.
Looking at my gentle maternal grandparents and my uncles, it was hard to imagine any of them would show such a burst of emotions as she did. As I think of it now, I wonder if it was her new family and living environment that pushed her to the edge of her patience and forced her to blow up.
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