Page 28 of Echoes of Eternity

The guilt was overwhelming, and I struggled to maintain composure. “I’m trying to make sureyou’retaken care of. I brought groceries to help out, and I’m always here to support you. I just need you to understand that I’m doing what feels right for me.”

My father chimed in. “We just want you to be happy, but we’re also worried. You’re our only child left, and it’s hard not to think about what could happen.”

His words felt like a hammer in my gut. Everyone had lost loved ones during wartime in the motherland, including my own family.

As the conversation continued, the guilt trips and unspoken expectations weighed heavily on me. My parents’ concerns, though rooted in love, felt like an unrelenting pressure to conform to their vision of a “successful” life.

I stood up, relief and lingering guilt consuming me. “It will be okay. I promise.”

“Mae-Mae,” my mother said, her voice barely above a whisper. “All we have is family.”

I know, Ma. Believe me, I know.

As the early afternoon sun cast long shadows, I busily moved about my childhood home, trying to find a productive way to help my parents. Since they voiced their concerns about finances, I decided it might be a good idea to offer some practical help. After a bit of persuasion, I convinced them to let me sort through some of their unused items to see if we could sell anything for extra cash.

We started in my old bedroom, a space filledwith old boxes, dusty furniture, and a tangle of memories. My mother hovered nervously while I pulled an old, cobweb-covered trunk she probably found at a thrift store.

“I don’t know, Mae,” she said hesitantly. “A lot of these things have sentimental value. Your father and I keep them because they mean something to us.”

“I understand, Ma,” I said gently. “But we could really use the extra cash right now to start a little savings account for you and Pa. And we can always keep the things that truly matter. Let me just see what we have here and we can decide together.”

I chose not to mention that I’d been quietly building my own savings at the bank, just in case anything happened to me. They didn’t need that kind of stress.

My father grunted in agreement from the corner of the room, a bowl of porridge in his hands. “We trust you, Mae-Mae. You’ve always been smart. But be careful with what you touch. Some of these things are precious to us.”

I carefully opened the trunk and began to sort through its contents. Old family photos, faded letters, and vintage, traditional sarongs came into view. I tried to set aside items that seemed less emotionally charged—books, old kitchen gadgets, and worn-out furniture.

As I sorted through my parents’ things, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. Here I was, probably just recycling the same thrift store treasures they’d collected over the years. Half of this stuff had probably been in the neighborhood longer than I had.

A yard sale might be a better idea, but then I imagined the scene: all the neighbors showing up, each oneclutching their own mismatched knickknacks, and it would be like a competition of who could unload the most bizarre trinkets. “Look, I have three of those ceramic cats!” someone would exclaim, and I’d just shake my head. Honestly, half the people around here were probably trying to get rid of the same stuff.

I sighed, smiling at the thought. At least we’d all be in it together, drowning in a sea of secondhand odds and ends. Maybe I should consider a consignment shop or something.

As I dug deeper, my hand brushed against something unusual. I pulled out a small, velvet pouch that had been tucked away in the corner of the trunk. It felt surprisingly heavy for its size. My curiosity piqued, I opened it to reveal an old pendant—a delicate piece with intricate designs that seemed out of place among the other items.

“Ma, Pa, do either of you recognize this?” I asked, holding up the pendant.

My mother squinted at it, her brow furrowing in confusion. “No, I don’t know what that is. We’ve never seen it before.”

My father joined us, his face reflecting the same bewilderment as he scrunched his nose. “It doesn’t look familiar. Are you sure it was ours?” He turned to my mother. “Did you borrow anything and forget to give it back?”

She scowled and put her hands on her hips. “We borrow things like pots, not pendants. Who borrows an item like that?”

I ignored their bickering and continued. “It was inthis trunk with all the other things…” Holding it in front of me, I examined the pendant more closely, running my fingers along the design. “It does look pretty old, though. Maybe I can do some research online to see if I can find out more about it.”

My mother’s expression shifted from confusion to concern. “Yes, you do the internet and see if the google tells you what you need to know. If it doesn’t belong to us, maybe it’s better to leave it alone.”

“I’ll be careful,” I reassured her, slipping the pendant into my pocket. “It might not be worth anything, but who knows? It could have some history.”

With the pendant safely tucked away, I continued sorting through the room, selecting items that seemed less personal for sale. I noticed my parents’ reluctance as we decided what to let go of, but I tried to reassure them.

“I know it’s hard to part with things,” I said softly. “But this is going to invest for the future. We can keep what’s most meaningful to us.”

My mother sighed, her gaze lingering on a box of old keepsakes. “It’s not easy, Mae.”

“I know, Ma. Change is hard. Believe me, I know. But we’re doing this for a good reason,” I said, offering a supportive smile. “And if it helps you guys, it’s worth it. Plus, we can always keep the things that really matter.”

Eventually, we managed to sort out a small pile of items for sale. The process was bittersweet, but my parents seemed to accept it with a mixture of resignation and relief. As we finished, I made amental note to research the pendant later and see if it held any significance.

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