Got home last night to find the living room in shambles. A metal statue I bought in India had been broken, another wooden statue scratched up, a Tibetan prayer wheel and the Om Mani Padme pulled out and ripped. The kitchen floor was very sticky…what the hell happened here? I just sat on the couch and started rerolling the prayer scroll pack into the wheel casing…I also needed to fortify and collect myself before I went to ask my wife what happened.
After I finally managed to get most of the prayers back in, I went to our room and asked…”Oh, the boys were going nuts.” Well, where were you? Where was the maid? (No, I am not that rich or spoiled…we are expats living in Asia…it’s the only way to get a babysitter and stuff really clean) “I was washing clothes and she was doing the dishes.” I asked if she was drunk and she claimed no. By this time it was almost one as I had been delayed a few hours by an accident on the bridge on the only road that leads to our house.
The next morning I noticed that a once nearly full fridge was now all but empty. Driving my son to school I asked if he had broken the statue….no, he said, his brother did it. Where was Auntie or Mom? Auntie had left for the day and Mom was asleep. We tried to wake her by putting all our toys on her but she didn’t move.
Shit. It was only a few weeks ago when I came home to find my wife passed out on the kitchen table with my oldest son walking around in his pjs scared that mommy wasn’t moving and he couldn’t find me. I has come to the point where I am afraid to leave the house…
