Wrestling with the Rabbit Hole of Regret

12:21am
It's raining and the sound of droplets hitting the window reminds me of a car wash.

When my sister and I would clamor for my mother to choose the multi colored soap.

I do have to say, the rain is much gentler than the water sprayed at the mini van.
The mini van was a green big Nissan. A family car, the kind that could comfortably fit car seats.

It's surprising how fast memories begin to fade. I'm not exactly sure if it had 7 seats or 6.

I remember getting my hand slammed on by a door, and throwing up egg tarts.
And one time, I was going to bring a book but my sister said it was too complicated for me with all the characters and names (warriors anyone?) And I listened because she sounded so serious.

I don't recall what happened to that car. Was it sold? Was there an accident and it just cost way too much to fix? I remember the hood blowing white smoke one time because I had asked my mom to turn on the air conditioning.

I don't miss that car, but I think I miss the hustle and bustle associated with that car. Going to school and Chinese school in that car. (Although before that, there was a Black car. But my dad sold that one.)

But later in middle school, I switched over to taking the bus home, but she still drove me to school every morning.

Because mom got a full time job, because she wasn't going to just be the housewife anymore, and I guess dad got mad because she had slowly changed. (It was much more complicated than that,  but I don't need to go into detail) And now they don't talk anymore.

(You wouldn't believe how many times I used my birthday wishes for them to get back together)

Maybe that's why I don't really particularly like to go home right now. Or I don't feel like associating home with a house that's still filled with echoes of tension. (It isnt painful to go back, it just isn't exactly a happy place for everyone that still lives in it.) I don't think they're angry anymore, maybe they're just too different now and talking wouldn't do anything. Or it just brings up bad memories.  

But now she's trying to move out after having stayed until I graduated high school.

She stayed for me, and I don't think I've ever shown her I am grateful she tried to make it work. (Even if it meant she wasn't happy)

She's still here thank goodness. I won't let one of the regrets in my life be that I won't really talk to her again. I can't do that to her or to myself.

Mommy, never doubt that I'm thankful and I love you.

12:54am
Well crap, I'm crying now.

p.s. It's not that I grew up without a mom, but I spent 6 or 7 years not treating her like a mom. (I regret that, and I'm sorry)

p.p.s. I thought it wouldn't hurt anymore. It still does, just in a different way.