The little blue house

Quite little for a family of eleven. Including the kids, the number might even exceed 15. For seventeen years of my life, I have been surrounded by loud voices, clanging of dishware and utensils in the kitchen early in the morning, kids running around the house imitating car noises. I've grown into it, and I know one day when I leave for the bigger world out there, I'm going to miss this. I remember taking a trip to Davis and staying at Kieu's new house. I eerily noticed the quietness. It was uncomfortable for me and I wonder if I ever had to live on my own, would I be able to take it. I love every part of my family. My mother and sisters lecturing me with their scary threats and unyielding voices. But through it all, I get phone calls asking, "Where are you? Did you eat yet? Are you having fun? If you need anything just say." I know ,without any uncertainty or doubts, they love me. And then I would miss my obnoxious and energetic kids who make my sisters go crazy. They remind me of the little simple but beautiful things in life. The tidbits of joy that they bring into this family. They teach me of how easy we could achieve and hold onto happiness. My brothers are the most gentle. They never try to raise their voice at me, they would make sure that I am safe and warm and not starving. How I am going to miss all this. And I don't want to be away from it. I'm excited for the big world out there, but I'm scared to walk away from this golden bond that makes me feel like I belong. Looking back, this family was so fragile and on the verge of breaking. I remember that one night when I was around eleven years old. I was laying in bed half asleep when I heard my mother and brother arguing, one holding a knife, the other unwilling to compromise. And tracing back a few years earlier, I would hear my mother yelling loud enough for the neighbors to hear, cursing her life and her husband. It was weird how I always hear stories from my mother about my father and how bad he was, but I never grow to despise him. In fact, I love him even though he was only with me for eight years of my life. But I could feel his love and care for me. If not that he was a good husband to my mom but he was the best dad I could have in this lifetime. And my mom was strong, a superwoman. I was always at awe by the fact that she could love all her children equally and not favor one over the other, and she had so much children. She made sure that each one of us was raised healthy and taught well, and I felt she achieved that. My mom is a great woman. I think through all the breaks and cracks that my family has gone through, what held us together was love and appreciation was our foundation that kept our family standing. I couldn't ask for a better family.