I often think that caring for another means will be returned to me. I have my specific notions about how to care for another person, and I look for the qualities in others. So if they had to care for me, to care about me, they would do those same things I would do for them.
Looking for the qualities you possess in another person sets you up for disappointment. I can no longer look at others and say "Well, I would do this for them, so they should be willing to do the same for me."
I learned the idea of "caring" for another from my parents. They presented to me a kind of love that is unfathomable. They have showed me what it is to put someone else before you, but not just once, but over, and over, and over, and over again.
I remember I went into my parents' bedroom in sixth grade, and I showed them this weird bubble on the back of my knee. My mom took a look at it, and she proceeded to ask me questions about it. She called my dad and told him about it, and he decided I would a get a consultation about it. One thing led to another and soon enough I was in the operation room to get a cyst removed. I remember it was around Christmas time, and seeing my parents right before I fell asleep. I saw my mom's eyes tearing up from the quick effects of anesthesia, and my dad's smirk that was a way of saying "I'm so jealous you get to fall asleep so fast right now."
They waited in the operating room until my eyes were half awake and I was alert enough to go home. The care that I received the next few days, and the days to follow.
Still more, my freshman year of high school, I finally got my lazy eye operated on. It was a painful operation. I was a little bit older now, and seeing the tears in my mom's eyes when the anesthesia hit me. The anesthesiologist took forever and a half to get to my room. When the needle went into my arm, I felt this cold stream flow through my body. It was as if I was providing a place for Winter in my very own soul. I looked into my parents' eyes before my eyes could no longer defend themselves from the light, and I suddenly felt warm.
They were always there. They are always there. I suppose using two operations I've had in my life is a bit of a stretch for examples of caring, but others are too difficult to explain. It's all in their eyes, in their touch, in their words. They always care, they have infused me with those same qualities. It would be foolish to assume that anyone would ever care for me as my parents have. It would be downright foolish.
I like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me.
© 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.