saturdays

when you were a kid, did you ever have those saturdays too? the ones when your dad blasts music from the stereo speaker wedged between the wall and the tv stand. the ones when, upon waking, you’re quickly brought to your senses as the vacuum makes rounds in the living room – the thin wall slightly shaking from the cleansing. the saturdays when you wonder how on earth your parents are always up so damn early with the urge to clean. it couldn’t be that messy, right? every week?

as i’ve gotten older, i realize that maybe the house wasn’t as messy as i thought. well, i mean. maybe it was. but i think of those saturdays more as the routine that kept them together. albeit it didn’t last for long, it did exist for some time. my parents cleaned together. sometimes cooked, but mostly cleaned together. on saturdays. in the morning. that was practically the only time the both of them were home and awake at the same time. needless to say, i had a very disjointed perception of family for a long time.

i think about what that means to me now whenever i hear those slow, sometimes painful ballads. you know the ones. throw in a ton of rod stewart, ray charles, and eric clapton too. i also think about that whenever i clean. which is often. and almost always, alone. and to be honest, i’m still not sure i can put into words what those moments mean to me. they mean something, because i keep thinking about them, but i don’t know what.

i haven’t seen my dad in 6 years. it feels really weird to know he exists somewhere, maybe. it feels weird thinking about when he eventually passes away that i won’t be there. some people still joke about having “daddy issues” and i still don’t understand why that would ever be funny. do we laugh because we’re uncomfortable? do we laugh because it’s true? do we laugh because we don’t want to cry instead?

i don’t really talk or think about him much other than this joint memory associated with my mom, whom i’ve had a tumultuous relationship with but a relationship nonetheless. a blossoming relationship, now, might i add. i think about how she feels when she cleans her apartment by herself. i think about how she feels when she hears those songs too. does she change the station? does she hurt a little bit too?

quarantine sucks but my job is good. my relationships are good. things are good. i guess i just want to see my mom and have her hold me for a little bit. i’m not used to things being this good.

and i wonder what my dad’s doing.

probably cleaning.