Construction Game (A Story from An Ordinary Morning)
It was Saturday morning when I laid upon my bed. I had had a hectic week before finally I got a lax Friday night to "avenge" my tiredness. Morning had never been so annoying, yet my body had never been so reluctant to welcome the sunshine.
Total unconsciousness with eyes slightly opened, that's where I was.
"Seven o' clock," and so had I checked my cellphone's digital clock which did not tick that my slumber met no obstacle. Hence I closed my unwilling eyes and enjoyed my sleep.
"Christopher! Christopher!," someone shouted, called for my brother's name.
Ignored it.
"Christopher! C'mon get out! Let's play!," alright, it's not someone, there are more than one. Three, perhaps. And my mind inferred their voices as the voices of young children. Aged 7 to 10 perhaps.
Drawing a conclusion needs consciousness, of course.
feeling disturbed, I tried to go on my rest before finally our house's front door was opened with a soft, high-pitched sound. I could clearly hear the tiny stride of four kids, one of them is my sibling's.
"Do you want to play PS?," my brother gladly offered them.
That's it. That's it. I could stand it no more.
"Hoaaaahhhhmmm,"
Eyes were fully opened, and that led me to raising the green curtain which had been hanging upon my head through the night. As I raised the curtain, the early morning sunshine passed through the window and shone upon my face. Warm and cozy.
Still I was very annoyed because the disturbed rest but could not do anything to get some more.
How could I rudely yell at kids just for waking me up? Hell no.
And so I decided to walk out of my room and get a breakfast.
"I'm bored, could we just play something else instead?," said someone.
I found my brother, who offered them to play playstation2, holding the joystick enthusiastically and played a one player game while the other three kids watched him playing.
Of course they got bored.
However, the kids were still noisy as kids usually are.
Mom was there, watching them playing. Dad was still in the other bedroom. Too tired to wake up. More than I was, I believed.
"Dude, could you just let them play? You have played this for times!," I said to my brother, with a forcing tone. Still holding a bad mood after the sudden wake up.
My sibling temporarily continued his play for a fleeting moment, then handed over the joystick to one of his friends after a short, clear dim which showed that he was thinking of my words.
I grabbed my bread, patted butter and nutela on it, and softly took my first bite.
"Let's play the construction game using the mini bricks you have, Chris!," said one of his friend.
They all agreed and talked about what they were gonna build. Kinda shouting each other.
Huh, kids.
So my brother turned off the playstation and the TV, took the bricks from a drawer where he kept his toys, dividing the bricks for each.
They started playing with their noisy chats. Mom joined them by sitting on the floor.
I almost finished my breakfast, though my coffee still had my glass half-filled. No care at all for what they were talking about.
"What's your name?," asked Mom to one kid.
"Evan, and this is my brother," the plump kid replied with his finger pointed to another kid whose look was not so different from his, but skinnier. His brother was about three years younger than Evan.
His brother kept silent, and so did I, for their disturbance toward my slumber party.
Then the other one introduced himself while constructing his tower. "I am Andre, their friend."
Andre tried as hard as he could to make a perfect tower, but everytime he reached the third stage, the tower was destroyed to pieces of mini-bricks. The kids laughed at him.
He was not frustrated, though. He kept innocently building his tower.
Evan and his brother built a house and they made it. Unfortunately the house was not well-established that it took only a whistle to mess up the balance and destroy the house they made.
Christopher built a firm house with the help of my mother.
Having the building done, he decided to make another one by taking the bricks from the firmed house.
They played noisily with their talks.
"Hell, why do I care?," I thought.
Mom asked several things about their condition at the moment while playing with the bricks.
Suddenly an answer from Andre shook my mind.
"Mom and Dad broke-up. They divorced. Yes," innocently the kid told us. His tone was not somber, nor angry. It was like an ordinary storytelling.
Mom was surprised with the answer.
He kept building his tower, and it broke down for the fifth time.
Being surprised and feeling some sort of sympathy, I asked Andre, "How could it be?"
"They used to fight each other. The fight was so severe. Finally they broke up. Now I live with my father!," said Andre. His tone indicated that he enjoyed living with his father, but still I know he missed his mother and his siblings.
Then Evan, with his competitive tone, joined the topic, "Our parents fights too. They are in a battle right now. A war! In couples of month, they will have a break-up too. The coming up May, perhaps."
His words make my heart even more trembling.
"They fight almost everyday," he added.
His brother continued building the roof as the finishing of the house, but he placed it wrong so that the bricks used for the pillars was moved. The house was almost turned to small pieces of mini bricks, but Evan, who realized the thing, quickly moved the pillar so that the house could stand still. Without a proper firmness, still.
My brother, without understanding, uttered ours, "Mom and Dad was once in a fight too for three days. Right, Mom?"
Mom and I looked at each other. My parents did have a fight four years ago. A severe one.
But thank God it was over.
Ignoring my brother's words, Mom talked to Evan, "As long as it could, you guys should prevent the break-up. Say to your parents that you don't want it to happen. Believe me, a divor.. I mean, break-up is not good. You won't enjoy it. If you don't believe me, you could ask Andre how it feels like."
I quite disagreed with Mom, since I was afraid that Andre would be hurt.
But I did not want to argue with her. I let her do her choice. "Her experience of living a life which is more profound than mine would make a reason for her words," I murmured to myself.
"Right, Andre?,"
Andre nodded without looking to my Mom. He was sad.
The kids built their buildings slower than they did. They were thinking deeply. Each of them.
A long pause truly it was.
However, the kids continued their noisy talks after the pause.
Then, I thought to myself that I should have been thankful for the life I was living.
My life was in His providence. God's sustaining grace.
These kids were feeling things that I did not feel at their ages.
When I was at their young ages (doesn't mean that I'm old by now), what I know was a running family with no bitterness but my parents' shouts at me.
They were, even are, feeling things that I felt when it was an early teen. Much more prepared than they are.
Thus I know that I should not be annoyed for their noises.
By that moment I could clearly understand why they were noisy, why they really needed to play with Christopher, why they were so enthusiastic that their talks woke me up.
I was sad, yet was I so thankful. I wanted to help, but I thought I could do nothing and Mom's words were sufficient and honest.
I had disliked them so much when I was woken up, but now I cared for them. I wanted to share all I had to put a smile, even it was temporary, on their tiny-little innocent faces.
I loved them...
.
.
Then I drank my coffee, and sat on the floor, next to my brother.
"Guys, may I join the game and build something for you?."
Total unconsciousness with eyes slightly opened, that's where I was.
"Seven o' clock," and so had I checked my cellphone's digital clock which did not tick that my slumber met no obstacle. Hence I closed my unwilling eyes and enjoyed my sleep.
"Christopher! Christopher!," someone shouted, called for my brother's name.
Ignored it.
"Christopher! C'mon get out! Let's play!," alright, it's not someone, there are more than one. Three, perhaps. And my mind inferred their voices as the voices of young children. Aged 7 to 10 perhaps.
Drawing a conclusion needs consciousness, of course.
feeling disturbed, I tried to go on my rest before finally our house's front door was opened with a soft, high-pitched sound. I could clearly hear the tiny stride of four kids, one of them is my sibling's.
"Do you want to play PS?," my brother gladly offered them.
That's it. That's it. I could stand it no more.
"Hoaaaahhhhmmm,"
Eyes were fully opened, and that led me to raising the green curtain which had been hanging upon my head through the night. As I raised the curtain, the early morning sunshine passed through the window and shone upon my face. Warm and cozy.
Still I was very annoyed because the disturbed rest but could not do anything to get some more.
How could I rudely yell at kids just for waking me up? Hell no.
And so I decided to walk out of my room and get a breakfast.
"I'm bored, could we just play something else instead?," said someone.
I found my brother, who offered them to play playstation2, holding the joystick enthusiastically and played a one player game while the other three kids watched him playing.
Of course they got bored.
However, the kids were still noisy as kids usually are.
Mom was there, watching them playing. Dad was still in the other bedroom. Too tired to wake up. More than I was, I believed.
"Dude, could you just let them play? You have played this for times!," I said to my brother, with a forcing tone. Still holding a bad mood after the sudden wake up.
My sibling temporarily continued his play for a fleeting moment, then handed over the joystick to one of his friends after a short, clear dim which showed that he was thinking of my words.
I grabbed my bread, patted butter and nutela on it, and softly took my first bite.
"Let's play the construction game using the mini bricks you have, Chris!," said one of his friend.
They all agreed and talked about what they were gonna build. Kinda shouting each other.
Huh, kids.
So my brother turned off the playstation and the TV, took the bricks from a drawer where he kept his toys, dividing the bricks for each.
They started playing with their noisy chats. Mom joined them by sitting on the floor.
I almost finished my breakfast, though my coffee still had my glass half-filled. No care at all for what they were talking about.
"What's your name?," asked Mom to one kid.
"Evan, and this is my brother," the plump kid replied with his finger pointed to another kid whose look was not so different from his, but skinnier. His brother was about three years younger than Evan.
His brother kept silent, and so did I, for their disturbance toward my slumber party.
Then the other one introduced himself while constructing his tower. "I am Andre, their friend."
Andre tried as hard as he could to make a perfect tower, but everytime he reached the third stage, the tower was destroyed to pieces of mini-bricks. The kids laughed at him.
He was not frustrated, though. He kept innocently building his tower.
Evan and his brother built a house and they made it. Unfortunately the house was not well-established that it took only a whistle to mess up the balance and destroy the house they made.
Christopher built a firm house with the help of my mother.
Having the building done, he decided to make another one by taking the bricks from the firmed house.
They played noisily with their talks.
"Hell, why do I care?," I thought.
Mom asked several things about their condition at the moment while playing with the bricks.
Suddenly an answer from Andre shook my mind.
"Mom and Dad broke-up. They divorced. Yes," innocently the kid told us. His tone was not somber, nor angry. It was like an ordinary storytelling.
Mom was surprised with the answer.
He kept building his tower, and it broke down for the fifth time.
Being surprised and feeling some sort of sympathy, I asked Andre, "How could it be?"
"They used to fight each other. The fight was so severe. Finally they broke up. Now I live with my father!," said Andre. His tone indicated that he enjoyed living with his father, but still I know he missed his mother and his siblings.
Then Evan, with his competitive tone, joined the topic, "Our parents fights too. They are in a battle right now. A war! In couples of month, they will have a break-up too. The coming up May, perhaps."
His words make my heart even more trembling.
"They fight almost everyday," he added.
His brother continued building the roof as the finishing of the house, but he placed it wrong so that the bricks used for the pillars was moved. The house was almost turned to small pieces of mini bricks, but Evan, who realized the thing, quickly moved the pillar so that the house could stand still. Without a proper firmness, still.
My brother, without understanding, uttered ours, "Mom and Dad was once in a fight too for three days. Right, Mom?"
Mom and I looked at each other. My parents did have a fight four years ago. A severe one.
But thank God it was over.
Ignoring my brother's words, Mom talked to Evan, "As long as it could, you guys should prevent the break-up. Say to your parents that you don't want it to happen. Believe me, a divor.. I mean, break-up is not good. You won't enjoy it. If you don't believe me, you could ask Andre how it feels like."
I quite disagreed with Mom, since I was afraid that Andre would be hurt.
But I did not want to argue with her. I let her do her choice. "Her experience of living a life which is more profound than mine would make a reason for her words," I murmured to myself.
"Right, Andre?,"
Andre nodded without looking to my Mom. He was sad.
The kids built their buildings slower than they did. They were thinking deeply. Each of them.
A long pause truly it was.
However, the kids continued their noisy talks after the pause.
Then, I thought to myself that I should have been thankful for the life I was living.
My life was in His providence. God's sustaining grace.
These kids were feeling things that I did not feel at their ages.
When I was at their young ages (doesn't mean that I'm old by now), what I know was a running family with no bitterness but my parents' shouts at me.
They were, even are, feeling things that I felt when it was an early teen. Much more prepared than they are.
Thus I know that I should not be annoyed for their noises.
By that moment I could clearly understand why they were noisy, why they really needed to play with Christopher, why they were so enthusiastic that their talks woke me up.
I was sad, yet was I so thankful. I wanted to help, but I thought I could do nothing and Mom's words were sufficient and honest.
I had disliked them so much when I was woken up, but now I cared for them. I wanted to share all I had to put a smile, even it was temporary, on their tiny-little innocent faces.
I loved them...
.
.
Then I drank my coffee, and sat on the floor, next to my brother.
"Guys, may I join the game and build something for you?."
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