My Swollen Hands Reminded Me of My Mom
“My fingers are swollen,” I said as we walked, holding my left hand in front of my chest. Then, I turned to Kris beside me, trying to get his attention.
“Shit, your ring looks like it’s strangling your finger,” Kris observed after a quick look.
“You think so? It’s probably because you dragged me along for such a long way. You jerk,” I retorted, furrowing my brow.
Kris had suggested taking a ferry across the river to reach the mall on the other side. However, since it was a holiday, the ferry terminals nearby were crowded with tourists, so we had to walk to the farthest ferry terminal to catch a ride.
“My mom used to get swollen from walking too much too,” I added when Kris didn’t respond. Thoughts of my mom’s swollen hands and feet flashed across my mind.
He kept silent. I guessed he was as tired as I was. We had been walking for nearly an hour, and we still had another hour to go.
And I started thinking about my mom. With another hour ahead of us, it was best to keep our mouths shut and find something to distract ourselves.
I was such a mommy’s boy. Especially during my time at boarding high school, I spent very little time at home, so whenever I returned, I would stick to my mom like glue.
I would tell her everything I saw and heard in school. Although there wasn’t much newsworthy, just who was dating whom, who was caught playing with their phone during class, who had a fight with whom, and so on. She would listen attentively and then share her opinions.
I couldn’t help but shake my head and chuckle when I remembered telling my mom about two girls causing a scene at school because they both liked the same boy. She couldn’t help but laugh and call those two girls “two little hens”.
Kris shot me a look as if to say, “Is your brain swollen too?” when he saw me giggling.
“Oh, someone just tripped and almost fell, it was quite funny,” I quickly explained to Kris. I didn’t feel up to explaining what I was thinking. It would be too draining. So, I made a quick excuse and continued to think about mom.
Because the boarding school didn’t allow students to go out, we could only buy things after returning home. Every time I needed to buy something, I would drag my mom along, whether it was for clothes or school supplies.
The first time I heard my mom mention swelling from walking was after I dragged her out clothes shopping with me.
“Come with me. I need your advice,” I said, playfully tugging at my mom’s arm.
“Go with your brother,” she said helplessly.
“Him? He’s a little brat who doesn’t know anything,” I sneered.
“Then go with your dad,” she insisted.
“He just wants to head back home after a few steps,” I replied with a pursed mouth.
“I’m still busy,” she tried her best to refuse.
“Mom, I’ve finally got a chance to come home. Please just come with me,” I pleaded, staring at her pitifully.
“Fine, let me grab my purse,” she finally gave in, and I jumped for joy.
She had been suffering from tracheitis, so she moved very slowly. Moving faster would leave her out of breath. Climbing stairs, in particular, was especially difficult for her — it almost exhausted her. So every time she climbed stairs, she stopped to rest for a while after just a few steps. And I always climbed ahead and waited for her. I think this was also why she didn’t want to come out.
I shook my head again, but this time I didn’t laugh. I thought, what was I thinking? Why didn’t I help her? I should have even carried her up the stairs! What a bad son I was.
However, she never complained. She always gave her honest opinions on the color of every shirt and the fabric of every pair of pants I tried on. She mentioned that jeans didn’t suit me, and sweatpants were more suitable.
“I’m swollen again,” she said when we got home from shopping, holding her hands over her chest with palms facing down and examining them.
“My feet swelled too,” she said as she removed her socks and pressed her calf with her index finger.
“Why?” I asked casually as I busied myself unpacking my new clothes.
“I don’t know, it happens whenever I walk too much,” she said helplessly.
“Weird, let me see,” I replied, setting down the new clothes in my hand and examining her hand closely.
“Wow, your hands look like hammers. How can you even take off your rings?” I asked, surprised. It was my first time seeing her swollen hands.
“I’ll rest for a while and the swelling will go away. You can continue unpacking,” she said as she walked towards the bedroom.
I shook my head again.
“Finally,” Kris’s voice suddenly interrupted my thoughts.
“Huh?” I looked at him in surprise. He was staring ahead with a triumphant smile on his face. Following his gaze, I saw our destination — the ferry terminal.
“Yeah, we made it,” I said, feigning excitement. In reality, I was exhausted from walking for so long and lost in thought about the past.
We successfully boarded the ferry. As I sat in one of the chairs, feeling completely exhausted, I suddenly noticed a pair of men ahead excitedly gesturing to each other and taking photos on the deck with their phones.
“Look at them, they seem so thrilled. Probably tourists,” I nudged Kris beside me and nodded in the direction of the men.
“Probably,” Kris replied, sounding uninterested.
I smiled, wondering what my mom would say about them if she were here.
I glanced down at my hands resting on my knees, still swollen. Yet, I’ll never again have the chance to see my mom’s swollen hands, or my mom herself, as they remain eternally in the summer of 2017.
