Father, everyday, clock

My father had a small shop. When I finished elementary school (it wasn’t elementary school at the time), I went there and ate. I also took a nap in the corner of the store. When the time came, the wall clock would sound’Ding~ Ding~ Ding’.

Just as my brother and I travel back and forth between home and school, my father also went to and from home and shop. It was like Sisyphus rolling a stone.

One day, I moved to the third floor house. The third floor was a house and the first floor was a shop. The house and store are very close. But life hasn’t changed. Father had breakfast and went down to the first floor. For lunch, I ate rice on the third floor. When the store closed in the evening, I went up to the third floor again. There was only vertical movement from floor to floor.

The only day of horizontal movement was Sunday. I went hiking once a month. On days without mountain climbing, I took a walk along the health road. The clothes were the same every time. A mountaineering suit that is more than 10 years old and an old mountaineering hat.

In 2015, my father was sick. If you were careful and well maintained, you could be in control. With the help of my mother, I managed food and took a gas tank class provided by the city.

The illness intensified in 2019. I tried again at a large hospital. late. A few days later, my father could no longer walk. We had my father in a nursing hospital. His eyes were bleak.

Mother took the bus every day to the nursing hospital. I took fruits, vitamins, olive oil, and medicine. After having a chat, I came home in time for the next bus. After seeing my mother off, my father was lying all day long. I brushed my teeth after breakfast, brushed my teeth after lunch, and brushed my teeth after dinner. He said he couldn’t sleep well at night because he was lying all day long.

When the coronavirus outbreak broke out, the hospital banned visiting. Mother delivers the goods at the hospital door and returns. Talk to me over the phone. One day I made a phone call, and the cuckoo clock cried. The cuckoo clock with us from the first day we moved. Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo. The sound made my father cry. I hung up the phone and my mother cried like a cicada.

When the cuckoo cries at 9 o’clock, he went to the store, ate lunch at the cuckoo at 1 o’clock, and returned home to the cuckoo at 6 o’clock. Now, in a hospital without cuckoos, you cannot go to work or go home.

Said the father. “It would be great if I could walk again.” It would be great if I could get out of bed, sit at the table, go to the bathroom, go down the stairs, sit in a chair, and go to bed again. It would be great if I could go back to my flat and monotonous routine.

Who said. “Today I let go of it in vain was the tomorrow someone so longed for.” The daily life that I took for granted is not natural. Neither I nor you.