w e e k 1 4 : r o s e s
Wealth and Forgiveness Live Hand in Hand
Being wealthy. How can one define a term such as wealth, when to each person, it means a different thing? There is, of course, the obvious: monetary wealth. And it is clear to me how—especially in a place of business—forgiveness (but not forgetting) can play a role in helping someone become wealthier. After all, holding grudges in a workplace only weakens one's network, limiting both their resources and their opportunities. After looking past monetary wealth though, it becomes clear that there are so many other ways for a person to be able to claim that they are wealthy.
There is wealth of knowledge, in which a person grows wealthy from the things they learn and retain to apply in their lives. There is also wealth in relationships, strong and mutual companionships that add substantial value to both lives. There is wealth in being healthy and active, in feeling good in one's own skin, even in seizing the day. I wholeheartedly believe that there is a way to find wealth in everything one might do in their day to day lives, if only they would look for it.
Recently though, I have discovered a new kind of wealth that I had not known in all my eighteen years: wealth of self. The wealth that comes from knowing who I am. Not just feeling comfortable in my skin or loving myself, but in truly knowing myself. Knowing what I want, what my ambitions are, how far I am willing to go to achieve those ambitions. The everchanging process of growing and honing my wealth of self has really opened my eyes. I have realised that there is a domino effect to this whole system. If I know who I am and what I want, and I am comfortable enough with myself to fight for what I want, then everything else falls into place. I will learn through my experiences (wealth of knowledge), I will cultivate new relationships that I would not have made otherwise (wealth of relationships), and most importantly, I will learn to accept myself despite my failures. If I could do this, my life would be rich. My life would be wealthy.
I hope that turning in this essay will be the first step toward embarking on this journey to gain wealth of self. Being able to admit to myself that I have been living in my own shadow, using my very own body to shield myself from opportunity, brings along the realisation that I also have the power to lift myself up into opportunity's reach. If I have been holding myself back, then I can also cause myself to shine.
This Saturday, I will be putting my words to the test. I will try, and I will fight for the one thing that scares me the most, but also the one thing that I want more than anything else. Ruth Renkel once said that "sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance." My mum's father, coming to Australia as a Korean immigrant, did not have much as far as monetary wealth goes, and I never got to meet him, but my mum has told me stories about him. I know that he was an intelligent, hardworking, family loving, and culture appreciative man. My mum learnt so much from him from the way he embraced this new country despite not having the best English, the way he would do everything in his power to make sure that even though she was growing up in Australia and her mum was Australian too, she would also remember that she was Korean as well and would love both parts of herself equally. So even though my mother didn't grow up with lots of new toys or fancy clothing, she grew up speaking two languages, she grew with two vastly different families, and she grew up with both her mother and her father's cultures. Today, she is well rounded enough to have taught me the values and importance of hard work, a good attitude, and forgiveness. She has left me with a richer inheritance than she knows, and by forgiving myself for my past mistakes, I allow myself to move forward and grow my wealth. I now have hope, and as far as I am concerned, as long as I hold on to that, I am wealthy.
~
"Hey, Mum, guess what I got on my essay?"
It was after school on Friday and Mum was out back in the garden, tending to her flowers that were unsurprisingly beginning to look really good. Juliet had known what she was doing when she helped fix up the garden. She had really done Mum a favour because even though they denied it, we all knew that the flower garden was absolute bull dust before Juliet showed up. Mum loved flowers, but on my life, she had no idea what she was doing back there.
Her face scrunched up as she squinted at me, trying to keep the sun out of her eyes. "Well are you gonna tell me?" she asked, "I'm slowly going blind."
The paper felt hot in my hands. It was the first piece of work I had turned in in a long while that I was at least semi-proud of. And this was also a big feat because both Mum and I knew that I was rubbish at writing. My strengths lied more in the Maths & Science area, and so whenever I had to write an essay, it would turn out bodgy at best. This one had just spilled out onto the paper though. I had had so much to say that it was hard to stay within the one-page limit Ms. Sehmi had given us.
I grinned and turned the paper over so Mum could see. "Eighty-six, Mum! I got higher distinction!"
"Yes!" She jumped up and gave me a muddy hug that I gladly accepted. "I'm so proud of you, Miles," she said. I had a feeling that she was more proud because of the content than the actual score, but I kept that to myself. Either way, it felt good to make her proud.
"So Ms. Sehmi liked it?" she asked.
I laughed. "Honestly I just think she got tired of having to grade so many essays from the whole lot of us that she started throwing out random numbers."
Mum rolled her eyes. "Miles, just accept your score and own it. You got higher distinction all on your own, and I'm sure she wouldn't have given it to you if you didn't deserve it."
I looked down, smiling at my hands. "Yeah, you're right," I said.
With a pleased look on her face, she took off her gardening gloves and put a hand on my back. "Come on, let's go inside, I picked up some pastries for us on the way back from work," she said. "I got to leave early today."
"And you decided to garden with your free time?" I asked.
She shrugged. "I'm going to be working all night, Miles. After I have this snack, I probably won't get to talk to you till dawn. I just wanted to do something relaxing beforehand."
I held open the door for her. "Then be a regular adult and get drunk or something."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be doing lots of that when I go to Stacy's tomorrow."
I shook my head, feigning dismay. "Mum, I think she's a bad influence on you," I joked.
Mum laughed. "Miles, that's already been established, but she's the only one who's been able to put up with me for fifteen years, so there's really no getting rid of her now."
I sat down at the kitchen table and Mum brought out the macaroons she had bought, setting them between us. I smiled as I grabbed a green one, eating the whole thing in one bite.
"Jesus, Miles, relax. The food's not going to run away," Mum said.
I just gave her a big, toothy, macaroony smile and she winced, making a face and reaching over to smack my arm. I laughed, swallowing the bite and taking a sip of my water. I set it down and looked over at her. "Uh, Mum?"
She looked up, a macaroon halfway into her mouth. "Yeah?"
"Out of curiosity...why did you never teach me how to speak Korean?" I asked.
She frowned, a strange look crossing over her face. "Miles..." she trailed off, sounding confused. "You—what?"
I wasn't sure why she was so perplexed. "I mean, I'm just curious," I said. "It came up in my essay and I wanted to ask about it. I guess right now I'm just thinking it would have been cool to be able to speak it, but it's not like I blame you for anything."
"No, it's not that I think you blame me," she said. "But...you don't remember?" she asked.
"Remember what?"
Nodding, she ran a hand through her hair. "Well, when you were younger, you remember how you did day-care?" I nodded. "Well I was working all the time, and by the time we got home at night, I was always tired and didn't really have much time for you. And I know that was terrible, trust me I feel like bloody rubbish every time I think about it." I reached over and took her hand in mine, reassuring her. She smiled, "And so you learnt English there and in school and that was all you spoke. The summer of 2009 though, we took a trip to Korea, remember?"
I nodded. "Of course I do," I said. "I'm not sure what that has to do with this though."
"Oh gosh." She sighed and looked at me. "So after we came back, you remeber I got that big promotion, right? So then I could do a lot more work from home and I wanted to teach you Korean because after being back there and seeing our family, I thought that you should learn it. I figured better late than never, but when I asked you, you got very angry, remember? You said that...that you..." She trailed off, not wanting to repeat what I had said. She didn't have to though, because now I remembered.
I had said that I didn't want to be caught dead speaking Korean, and if I ever was, then I would just end my life.
Okay, so maybe I was a tad overdramatic in year 6...
Burying my face in my hands, I groaned loudly, soliciting a nervous laugh from Mum. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I had completely forgotten about that."
"It's okay, Miles."
"No," I shook my head, "It's not. I cost myself an opportunity to learn the language and made you fear for your son's life alongside it."
"Are you finally ready to tell me what was going on then? Why you said that?" she asked.
I groaned. "I was just a dumb and emotional adolescent," I said. "I was angry because when we went to visit Korea, people made me feel like I didn't belong there. Everyone I met would talk to me in hangukmal first since I was your son, and when they found out I couldn't speak it, it felt like suddenly I wasn't 'Korean enough' for them. My cousins teased me relentlessly, my aunts and uncles brought it up in literally every. Single. Conversation. Even the kiwi woman asked me why I 'let the white man control me!' Which I still don't have an answer for, but..." Mum laughed. "Yeah, I guess as a little boy it was a lot more traumatic to me. I think I associated the language with all those mean things I had heard and I just grew bitter. I felt like I wasn't Korean enough to speak it and I also didn't want to because all my experience with the language was just people telling me I'm too white. I was embarassed."
Mum groaned. "Oh, Miles, you should have told me," she said. "I had no idea that all that happened. I would have said something had I known."
"I know you would have, but I was dumb and didn't want to ask for your help."
She laughed. "Yeah, you were a stubborn little boy."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Sadly."
A small smile appeared on Mum's lips. "You know, Miles...they tell me I'm too white sometimes too."
My eyebrows shot up. "Really? But you speak perfect Korean!"
She shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm half white, so it's always going to make me different. As I grew older though, I just had to realise that it doesn't come from a place of hate. Our family loves us, Miles. Me and you. They just want us to embrace being Korean more, I guess, and that's their way of saying that they want us to resonate more with them."
"...Wow. I'd never thought of it that way."
Mum nodded. "Yeah," she agreed. "It took me a while to understand too, but if there aren't any more hard feelings and you're up for it, I would love to start teaching you now." She smiled, "It's never too late."
I grinned back at her. "Yeah, I'd like that," I said.
"Great! And every now and then, we can even have days where I only speak to you in hangukmal—of course I'll use motions so that you know what I intend—but I think you'll pick it up in no time. Even if it's only one part of what you are, you should still get to know that part of yourself. Lord knows I've done a terrible job of making that easy, but I'll try."
And despite her desperately needing to go do some work, Mum and I stayed downstairs for hours as she taught me different sayings and old slang phrases that she knew from years back. We even watched a few episodes of her favorite K-drama. I had learnt more Korean in one night than in all my eighteen years combined, and as strange as it was, I was glad. That night I went to bed feeling much better than I had in a while, and for once, it wasn't only because of Juliet, and I knew that was a good thing.
The next morning, I had decided that alongside my little gesture (i.e. confessing my love for Juliet a second time), I wanted to have something to show for it, and so I left the house before Mum had even woken up and drove to the closest flower shop I could find. I bought a decent sized bouquet of red roses, the best one I could possibly afford. And as I handed over the money, I realised that the prices Juliet gave us were much more fair than they seemed, because for what I paid for that one measly bouquet, I could have bought up to ten good quality ones from Juliet.
I wanted to get something nicer, but all the extravagant ones were way out of my price range so I just took what I could get and hoped that Juliet wouldn't notice its mediocrity.
I would honestly rather have given Juliet the business, but I remembered that she had once told me she didn't sell roses. I couldn't remember why.
And also, I couldn't buy flowers for her from her, that would just be weird.
So I bought the bouquet from the flower shop and by the time I got back home, it was roughly an hour before when Juliet usually showed up. By that time Mum had already left to go to Stacy's and so I had the house to myself. I took a much needed shower and tried to make myself look somewhat better than I usually did as I combed my hair in front of the mirror. I didn't want to be as sad looking as the roses I had bought when I opened the door for her.
As I was putting on my t-shirt, the song on the radio changed, and one of my favourite songs began playing. It was one of the songs I distinctly remember listening to the night that Juliet had told me she had a boyfriend. I wasn't sure what it was if not sign from God himself, because as I listened to the song, every word she sang was like she was describing my relationship with Juliet.
"Just the thought of you leaving had me on my knees, on my knees..."
The doorbell rang, snapping me out of my reverie, and I nearly broke the radio as I jerked back from it.
Juliet was here.
She was here and I would finally talk to her. After nearly three weeks, I would finally get to see her face again. I would finally get to hear her voice again.
I took a deep breath. "Stay calm, Miles," I said. "You know her, and she knows you. There's nothing to worry about."
And when I had finally managed to coax myself into being semi-calm, I went downstairs, bouquet in one hand, and my heart in the other.
*play the song at the top now*
I opened the door, and I don't know why I expected her to be less heart-stopping, less mesmerizing than she had been the last time I'd seen her.
Had my muscles not frozen in place, the bouquet would have fallen from my hands the moment I laid eyes on her.
Venus herself, the goddess of beauty and love, stood before me, one hand resting on her rickety cart and the other wrapped around her chest. My heart stopped beating. She looked up and had a tight smile on her lips that didn't reach her eyes. When they landed on my face though, her mouth opened slightly and her eyes did the rest, growing so wide that her head looked smaller in comparison.
I couldn't wipe the smile from my face as her eyes dropped to the flowers I was holding in my hands and she closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath as her small lips stretched into a smile. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her small forehead that had beads of sweat resting on it, I wanted to kiss her closed eyes that held all the secrets to her heart. I wanted to kiss her button-like nose that was so small it was barely there, I wanted to kiss her golden cheeks that were turning that unfathomable color of embarrassment that was just so unique to her.
She wasn't human. Humans didn't look this strange. Humans didn't look this beautiful.
Every time I thought of her, she reminded me of the sirens. I knew that she had the power to hurt me, I had already surrendered my heart to her. And no matter what happened, I couldn't stay away. Something about her kept me coming back.
Everything about her kept me coming back.
"Miles..." Her voice sent chills so real up my spine, that even in this 35-degree weather, goosebumps were creeping up my arms.
I couldn't find my voice so I just smiled at her, hoping that if I kept smiling, eventually my voice box would untangle itself from my nerves.
She was wearing a plain black t-shirt that came up to her neck, doing nothing for her in terms of flattery, and yet all I could notice was the way that the black made the gold in her skin glow all the more. Her arms were shining from the contrast of the black shirt and damn it it was so beautiful. The denim skirt she was wearing was just as loose as the shirt, and it made her legs look even skinnier than I knew they were, and yet my legs were the ones growing weak. How was I still even standing?
Pointing to the flowers, Juliet looked at me. "Those are for me?" she asked.
As she eyed me, it looked as though her eyes were crossed because of just how far apart they were, and the grey beanie that she was wearing despite the heat, made her head look all the larger. Why could I still not speak? These were things that should have made me less nervous if anything. An abnormally big head for an abnormally small body and eyes so wide apart that they crossed just to look at me weren't traits that I normally considered attractive. Yet on her, this freakish beauty was like the golden ratio, and all the abnormalities in the world couldn't have stopped my hands from shaking.
I cleared my throat, tried to speak, realised I still couldn't, and just smiled and nodded.
Juliet smiled back at me. "Shouldn't I be the one giving you flowers?" she teased.
It was clear that she could tell I was nervous and so was trying to lighten the mood. And somewhere between her joke and her little laugh, I found my voice and finally spoke for the first time since opening the door.
"Juliet, you know why I'm giving you these," I said, immediately wiping the smile off of her face.
No. Please, not again.
"Miles..."
I held up a finger, motioning for her to let me speak. I had to get it out before I lost all my confidence. I took a breath, "Okay, Juliet, you may not want to hear this, and you may not even want these flowers, but I just need to say this. I need to tell you that I'm just—fuck, I'm in love with you! I love you, Juliet. And I know that you have a boyfriend, but...I just—I can't stop thinking about you. You're on my mind every night and I replay that day over and over in my head just wondering if there was something I could have done differently to change the outcome. And maybe there isn't, but I need to know that I've laid all my cards out there, that I've done everything I possibly could to win your heart."
I finished, out of breath and out of words. There was nothing else I could say, and if she still didn't want me, then at least now I knew for sure.
A line of tears streamed down Juliet's face as she looked at me, and I got a sinking feeling in my heart. That was the kind of face someone gave you before they said no even though they wanted to say yes. She pulled the beanie further onto her head and sniffled. "My boyfriend..." she said. "He's...he's beautiful, and he's kind, and he's so funny...and he loves me." Her voice got caught in her throat and she looked down at her fidgeting hands. I felt the sky begin to dim, and it was as though night was taking over day. I had to hold on to something, anything. I just knew that if I heard any more of this I wouldn't be able to keep myself up. I had completely put myself out there despite knowing that I had slim to no chance, and now it had come back to bite me in the arse.
"And yet," Juliet looked up at me, tears of confliction in her sad eyes. "Here I am, so in love with you, and I'm not even sorry about it."
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