Cry

I had a good cry last night. I don’t even know why I was crying. Let me tell you what happened yesterday….

I went to work and came back home. As I was eating dinner at the table with my dad (mom and sister were warming up their food), my mother yelled at me for not putting the yogurt on the table. She had not told me to do so, nor had she told me to set the table or anything. She just started yelling at me that I should’ve put it on the table, that she shouldn’t have to tell me what to do and what not to do anymore, that I’m not two years old anymore, that I don’t do “anything” in the house. Completely uncalled for in my opinion. It’s not like she was irritated with me or anything. She just started yelling at me.

Later that evening, I was in my room watching a movie and my younger sister came in (age 13). I was slightly irritated because I wanted to finish my movie but I didn’t say anything and I tried to welcome her. She’s been complaining that I never let her sit in my room and I never talk to her. So, I’m trying to change that. So I put my movie down and listened to her story. Then I asked her if she had prayed Isha (it was 10:45 pm). She replied “Possssssibbllllyyy………….maybe……..” She claims that she said, “Possibllyyyy….not.” But that is most certainly not what I heard. But that is besides the point. I asked her if it was possible for a human to have possibly prayed. You either pray or you don’t. There is no in between. I said all of this in a calm voice, and not accusing at all. She replied that it was if you had amnesia or something. I asked her if she truly, in her heart, believed that this was true, that you could “possibly” pray. She replied that she did. After she argued with me for about 5 minutes, she finally stated that she was joking/being sarcastic when she said that. I told her if that was the case, then why did she argue with me for 5 minutes that it was possible for someone to have “possibly” prayed. She argued with me about that for 5 minutes more, claiming that everyone always picks on her and I should’ve known she was joking. I didn’t. I told that I cannot tell anymore when she is joking/being sarcastic/lying/actually telling the truth. She lies way too often for me to be able to decipher what she is doing. I told her that. She asked me to give her an example of when she lied. I told her how earlier this evening, Ammi said she saw my sister with her math book in her lap, watching TV (she was supposed to be doing math homework). My sister yelled at Ammi that she always throws “accusations” at her that are not true. Ammi yelled back at her if this was not the case, if she was or was not doing what she said. My sister tried to stomp away but Ammi kept yelling at her to answer her question and finally my sister said it was true. When I related this incident to my sister, she started yelling that Ammi always makes generalizations about her, that it was only true about 50% of the time. At that point she was steamrolling over everything I said and the time was 11:05 pm. 15 minutes of arguing with this child. I was so tired. So incredibly tired of her constant arguing, her complaints, her yelling, her lying, her.  I started tearing up and I asked her to leave. She did. And that’s when I started crying. I don’t know if it was from arguing with her, or if it was my sadness for my younger sister, who spends her days watching TV and eating, never believing herself to be wrong, and having to argue at every SINGLE thing possible. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked that argument last night, but I was so fed up with her constant arguing. My vision I currently blurring as I write this.

I don’t even know how to approach her anymore.

Hearty Laugh

“What was the last thing that gave you a real, authentic, tearful, hearty belly laugh? Why was it so funny?” —The Daily Post.

The last time I really had a good laugh was earlier this year, during the spring semester. I had seen an article on Buzzfeed about girls who have b—- resting faces and it reminded me of my younger sister, who had been complaining of her own resting face a few days earlier. So I pulled up the article on my iPad and went to her room to show her. She finished up her drawing and came over on the bed to look at it. As she was scrolling through, she started laughing and laughing and then she was crying and then she was gasping for breath because it was so funny to her. I hadn’t found it that funny but seeing her laugh so hard made me laugh really hard and pretty soon, I too, was gasping for breath and clutching my stomach in laughter. We laughed together for a good bit and my sister had to put the iPad down in the middle of the article for fear she would lose her breath. We laughed ourselves out and then went back to the article and laughed some more and finally we made it through the article.

But what I love about that memory is that it wasn’t the article that made me laugh, it was my sister’s laughter that made me laugh.