Expectation

The shrill bell rang as the minute hand touched 6, five digits ahead of the hour hand. As per mundane routine, she opened the wooden door to hurriedly usher, more than welcome, her husband in to the house, almost as if trying to hold in the seldom used heating from escaping into the Siberian seeming cold outside. With a curt smile, in contrast to his wider almost pleading grin, she took the white heavy polythene from his worn well worked hands without registering what was in it, and proceeded past the meagre, but welcoming living room, into the tiny brown tiled kitchen. He proceeded upstairs, in a weary stance, the right hand absent mindedly combing his receding graying mane, the palm pressing over the eye lids feeling the tiredness of the day, the other untucking the now scrumpled, white supermarket issue shirt from the fading black baggy work pants. "She didn't say anything about the fact that I came home early, on a half day", he thought exasperated, as he proceeded to undress and into something more comfortable. He tried to let that feeling go but it clung on in the back of his mind, as he decided on black track pants and a baggy jacket that well disguised his sedentary middle aged paunch against his otherwise skinny frame. The kids were home too, on this sunny beautiful cold Sunday. He felt happy, rather excited to be home early, it was unusual for him to be around much. He worked 8 - 6 in the Chinese supermarket as a butcher, 7 days a week to make ends meet, a craft he was very proud of, his colleagues considered him a Xaefu. He had learnt well from his father in his adolescence growing up in Dalian, and in a bid to find a better life he had come to the West, the first world, years ago as an immigrant with not much to his name, but just a yearning to be successful. He had toiled hard, working odd, low paying, even illegal jobs, crossed many immigration hurdles, learnt the alien language, and finally now was relatively stable, with a rented home in a decent neighborhood and a growing family. When life happens, success becomes a relative concept. And through it all he had remained true to his learnt craft of butchery.

He knocked on and pushed the slightly ajar door to the kids bedroom to see his son, teenage looming, hunched on his laptop gaming away, playing some strategy game that escaped his dad's simple view of the world. His sister lay on the bed, still in her pyjamas, her legs dangling up in the air as she scrolled through Instagram on her rather new middle segment smartphone that he had saved selflessly for to buy for her 15th birthday so she too had one just like her friends. The daughter registered his presence, and with very much her mother like response, with a curt smile and a slight glint in her eyes with an acute tilt towards the door, proceeded back to the fashion influencer reel that she was engrossed in. He walked over to behind his oblivious son and placed his hands softly on his shoulders which startled the latter. "You scared me Dad, almost missed a point, jeez" he said in the local accent, in a respectful playful tone, speckled with a tinge of annoyance at seemingly having faltered in his game and hurriedly went back to his keyboard to correct the damage that had been done. "Da's home early today, want to do something?", he asked them. Silence. "Hmm?" he reiterated a little while later, " we can watch something together, a movie, or go for a walk to the park, must be nice and white this time of the year?". This time he got a reluctant response - raised eyebrows, rolling eyes, a slight puff of the mouth and a shoulder shrug from both parties. "Okay, if you think of something, let me know" he said and headed out the door. He popped his head back in a second later as an afterthought and announced "Lunch should be served up soon, see what Da's brought, it's a surprise, you both love it, that's a little clue for you", he said happily in his acquired local accent with a heavy undertone of his Chinese roots, revealing his yellowing teeth. A long tailed "Okay" was the rather characteristic teenage but lack lustre seeming reply, in unison.

He proceeded into the kitchen where his wife was toiling over a meaty smelling brown stew with a heavy undertone of Schezwan chillies, her ladle scraping the bottom of the deep aluminium pan over a simmed fire. Everyone's favorite at home, a beautiful reminder of food from back home and of his own childhood, a perfect dish to warm you up in the unrelenting winter. The spicy soup was so moreish that it was impossible to stop even though the chillies numbed the entire mouth, and the succulent chunks of meat that just melted in the mouth. His wife made it just perfectly, just as he remembered from his mother, she had learnt well and added her special magic to it. He held her softly from behind, on her ample waist. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out, middle age and the toils of life were unable to add any marks to her simple and still youthful beauty. "This smells wonderful my darling", he said kissing the small of her neck. She smiled back, again restrained, not entirely giving in to the embrace of her husband. "I hope you like it" she replied simply much to his agony. Their relationship over the years had gone through a change, the busy mundane lower middle class lifestyle had taken a toll, the holidays, trips back home and the outings were seldom, and the bills didn't ever stop, but they had worked together in unison to raise their children diligently. They didn't have too much time together in isolation, chores were chosen over coitus, rest over outings and adventures, the children's needs over dates. She tried her best too; Yes, she had dreams and aspirations but she had given up those for her offspring, the mundaneness and tiredness showed at times on her countenance, especially when she interacted with her partner, for she felt it was their combined set of decisions that had them where they were; she didn't blame him though entirely, she was pragmatic about things. She loved him with all of her heart, but she found it hard to show it, it just didn't flow as naturally as it did until a few years ago. They were happy yes, there was no doubt about that, but the happiness reflected in bursts, at events and celebrations, and in front of society and friends rather than continually.

He set the table as he always did when he was at home, his mind not at rest, still irked, annoyed, disturbed at the seeming lack of interest from others in his plans. As the family sat down at the table around the hot steaming pot of stew, little excitement was visible from anyone except him and the dog, the latter probably a bit too overjoyed at the prospect of leftovers. A few slurps in, "it's so good" he exclaimed, "how do you like it? Ma's done a wonderful job". No answer, except from a little smile from the mother as she accepted the compliment; the kids were busy slurping up the stewy goodness, the chopsticks hunting for the relative chunks of meat. "Can't even reply to me, arghh", he thought exasperated, almost instantly after asking the question, as if preempting the response. He had felt similarly in the recent past but today seemed to be the tipping point, the lack of work and the time for idle thought igniting such concerns in his otherwise tepid mind. He had brought home this exclusive cut of premium meat, which generally sold out early in the morning especially on Sundays, but he had set it apart for the family first thing at the butchery, requesting the manager, and splurging beyond his meagre means. He had been looking forward to the meal with the family. But now it didn't feel too good, he didn't get the response he expected, of what he had imagined when he had initially planned the meal; How things transpired, the entire set of events did not match his expectations.

In his misery, he ate little, while the rest busily finished bowl after bowl - a perfect portrayal of their contentment with and appreciation of the food which he didn't necessarily register for her expected a different reciprocation of gratitude perhaps. "You're not eating, is it not made well?" She enquired earnestly, with a troubled brow; She knew how we loved this dish and was also aware of how hard it would have been for him to get this excellent piece of meat. "No, nothing like that, it's exquisite, I'm just not feeling too hungry", he quipped looking rather downcast but attempting a strained smile. The thoughts were now getting to him, his breathing grew longer proportional to the annoyance in his mind.

As soon as lunch finished, "I'm going for a walk", he declared and left the table with the faithful dog hurrying behind, and went into the living room to get the leash, without waiting for reactions, questions or companions. He quickly leashed the rather reluctant dog who still hoped for some meat before an always welcome stroll, picked up a bag of his favorite peanuts from the central glass table in the living room that housed different munchies for when the kids were peckish, for he was still quite hungry and headed in his continued abrupt play into the cold outside. There was silence back inside as questioning faces looked at each other; dad never acted like that, he always helped clean the table. Something was slightly amiss, but they couldn't quite comprehend what. The wife wondered if he was not feeling too well. The thought of any emotional distress seemed inplausible since the rest were all behaving normally, as they always did, in their own characteristic ways. Puzzled but not overly concerned, they continued on with cleaning the table; chores often help keep the mind clear of thoughts, in ignorant bliss.

Outside the polar wind numbed his face, it was cold but sunny and fresh. The snow covered the grass on the left, as he trudged on the crusty salted pavement, his accomplice trying to keep up, age catching up. He walked nimbly but his mind was racing. He was pulling back tears almost, he felt pained, helpless, angry, lost, clueless, emotions flowing unrestrained. "Why don't they talk to me, appreciate what I do for them or tell me they love me? I've done everything in my ability for them. Have I ever taken a day off? Said no to any need or want, however exuberant?". Generally, he enjoyed the winter sunshine especially when he went out to the park with the kids, but today on this gloriously bright day, even the sun seemed sick to his troubled mind. He reached the nearby park and continued into the gardens now patched with a heavy blanket of strewed upon muddy snow with specks of browning green peeking in places. "Am I wrong to expect a little hug, some time to play with my own kids or just a thank you? Is it so hard?", his mind rambled on, as he absent mindedly plopped slightly salted roasted peanut kernels into his mouth from the open packet in his track jacket pocket, the russell hoping earnestly in tow for some after the failure of scoring a piece of meat at the table earlier. The mind has an uncanny ability to conjure thought after thought, however absurd but chained plausibly when given free reign. As they neared the pond, he saw a squirrel, a larger variety from what he was accustomed to, that were endemic to the area, but he never got around to checking what species they really were; these days he seldom found time to quench his curiosity with his busy schedule. The 'squirrel' scurried around, from one bush to another, from one naked tree to the next, looking for food, frantically to his eyes, it's busy expressive eyes looking up at times, at him he was sure, before moving on from one stop to another. "Let me give something to the poor thing", he thought, "must be hard to provide for the family in the hard winters", subconsciously drawing similarities between the squirrel's and his own existence. He dropped a few kernels of peanuts on a grassy patch, at a safe distance away from the dog who he kept on a tight rope, much to the russell's annoyance at this unecessary tease. The squirrel, much used to similar acts of kindness from other humans who frequented the park, with slight apprehension, came over to where the peanuts were, looking intently at him and the curious looking canine, wary of any signs of danger. Content that there was none, it picked up a kernel, in it's two little hands, putting it into its mouth and proceeded to it's nest perhaps or a safe storage location for food, behind a fallen trunk, hidden from the view of the other two in this interaction. After depositing the first lot it came back for more, taking one at a time, looking blankly at him everytime. In this process that went on for a while, he felt happy that he had helped provide for the squirrel's family. He felt content, at peace and satisfied at this good deed. And then it struck him. He didn't expect anything from the squirrel, no gratitude, no thank you, nothing in return, not even a nod of recognition. Why was that? His contentment stemmed from his own actions. Why didn't he expect anything? Perhaps because of his own perception of the squirrel's inability of reciprocation. His misery and annoyance with his loved ones back home was a consequence of his own expectation; he expected them to reciprocate in a certain way, which was inadequate in his own eyes, but was enough, diligent perhaps but definitely real and appropriate in the minds of those who actually were reciprocating. When helping the squirrel, he expected nothing, and in the action he found happiness in the perceived fulfillment of the squirrel's needs, which brought him peace. Just like the sun provides warmth and light to the earth and all of its inhabitants without seeking anything in return, and that is maybe why it shines so bright and is so revered by most. As this realization dawned on him, his mind relaxed, expectations fizzled away giving way to deep contentment. Don't seek, don't expect, just give happiness and experience and enjoy what others have to provide, with no expectations and preconceived notions. The warmth of the sun now felt wonderful against the chill as it shone after a brief stint behind a solitary cloud, the squirrel now nowhere to be seen, as he turned back to go home, with a slight spring in his step and hope in his eyes, the companion happy too still anticipating a chance at leftovers back home.