The loved ones of dreamers have to beware. Once the child crosses the line of a dream to the goal, nothing can rein them back. In their hearts, a beat remains the pace of the unrestrained desire, ready to pounce on shimmering opportunities.
Perhaps, it is a small-scale comparison, but it is like teaching babies to walk. Their tiny elbows and legs are gripping to the floor, holding all weight to get somewhere, most of the time the ones they love. No words are comprehensible from babbles. Their features were not fluent in shifting distinct emotions. But their claps and big smiles are proof. More so are their attempts to crawl to their loved ones. Baby knees holding out their being, coming closer and closer until their arms reach for a carry.
Until one day, someone holds them right up. They introduce pressure to be on their feet and show them the difference between feet and hands. The babies don't know gravity until taught to try and take a step for themselves. "A step for mankind," an adult astronaut states. But they fall at the first few times, unfamiliar with the pressure. Eyes glimmer with nearing tears each time they hit the floor. Their caregivers almost waiver from teaching them to walk if it means more sadness. But they are too late. The child saw the speed of walking versus crawling. Without any guide, they get up again. And again, until they are worthy of applause for a few consecutive steps.
Chan's family repeated the cycle of emotions when he decided to be a Kpop idol. A young thirteen-year-old boy, a blush of youth in his face, as he told them his plans. His eyes glimmered hope, a dangerous incentive to the world. But also the very reason they agreed. They couldn't tarnish the fire in him that could burn through stages and promise warmth to so many. "Okay, whatever you want to be." So for seven years, he stayed and dared the world to let him down because his work ethic was out of bounds from fate itself.
Ring
Ring
Ring
Ring
Ring
Ring
She knew if six rings went past, her son probably wouldn't answer. There might be no pleasing voice to take over the velocity of a phone bell. That maybe it was a monotone system to make the noise stop. But she kept her grip on the phone tight, lips pressed together, and ears wanting something improbable. She just wanted to hear the voice of her son. But it isn't as simple as it seems to be. Chan was an artist involved on stage and behind the screen. How much time did he have to spare a call to his family? The back of her eyes burned with pressure because of the holy fire of a mother's suppressed cry. And she knew only his words would soothe the burn.
"Hello, auntie. It's Leon. I'm so sorry." His apology pushed the walls of her eyes, and she cried with her son's boyfriend on the phone. Many would find her actions embarrassing, she admitted, if the other boys or her son picked up, she would hold it in. Yet, this American boy Chan loves and adores has her comfortable. She remembers meeting him back when they visited. He struck her as a protective boy with a knack for words. But as she knew more and more about him, he had a heart of gold for the world. And this priceless heart loves her son to an infinite realm. So she knew her weeping would stay between them, and his ears won't strain from her vulnerability. "I can wake Channie hyung up if you need me to?" And even if they were over four thousand miles away, both agreed that sleep was something the boy needed. Best not to wake him then. "It's okay, nothing urgent to say." There was no news at her end. All was fine and well. But no doubt, there was a reason for her call, one that walks in the line between rational and irrational.
"But it's not about urgency. It's about you missing your child, auntie." Leon was no parent. There were many things he did not understand. As much as the man tries to be as responsible as one, the idol still is a kid with no child to call his. But he was an older brother, knowing how tiny annoyances are the grips to love. The presence so apparent is not to take up much space. Instead, it was a constant reminder of who is there for you. "If you want, you can tell me the times you're available, like in the morning or midnight. Then I'll be the one to call you and hand the phone to hyung."
He could not see her, but Leon could imagine what the pause meant. Maybe disbelief ran through her teeth that held them together to stop any words. It could also be her breath itself, stopping at the sudden offer. "It'll be much of a hassle—" When she started, he knew his actions may be rude. But he could not hear more of her heart trying to repair itself in excuses. "Forgive me for cutting you off, but it isn't. I already have my phone in sync with Australian time to update Felix's sisters. I can do the same for you too." Leon memorized the time difference between the two nations, only two hours. In the folders of his memory, a note of Olivia and Rachel's free time when he can call. To add another schedule won't be a hassle if it eases Chan's mother's worry and concern.
The woman did not know what to do. Of course, the offer was well-appreciated. But adding on to the producer schedule? "Thank you, Leon." In the end, though, she gave in and told her details. But she made the young man promise to only call if he was not busy and rested. And even if he was hesitant to promise, he did for her ease. "You should rest already. I know you always have a packed day," maybe she was not his mother, but the woman reminded him of his own. Memories of years back flooded him, times when he was still in America with them. But if he continues to dive into the past, he would break over the phone. And this mother had enough worries about Chan on her sleeve.
Before the call could cut on, either way, she whispered in a gentle tone one more request. The tender words took his heart into a big embrace. "Do also update me if Chan proposes? I hope it would be soon enough so that I can officially call you my son-in-law."