It was December 23, 2013, and I was sitting in a train, cold... I was only wearing a thick jacket and gloves to fend off the chill of the winter season. The train didn't make me feel warm; I still felt the cold of the snowstorm from outside. I looked out the window, and all I saw was a terrifying snowstorm. Yet, for some reason, I felt something very ambiguous that bothered me. I didn't know what I was feeling; perhaps what I felt right now was just like the snowstorm happening outside. I then took out my notebook to write my daily diary.
(Today I went to my parents' house... Not the same place as that place, but it still frightens me. They died in a car accident that killed them gruesomely. I'm only going to my parents' house now because I have to take care of my daughter.)
I got off the train. In this small village, I saw the train station was built of weathered wood. I took one step out of the train station, and then the old lamp illuminating the area went out, blown away by the snowstorm's wind.
I arrived in front of my late parents' house. I slowly walked into the house without knocking first. The first thing I saw was a note left by the housekeeper a few hours ago. I opened the note she had left, which read, "Goodbye, Mr. Vincent, I hope you are well, and I apologize for my departure." I looked at it without any expression on my face. My heart felt too empty to show any emotion. It was like speaking in a dark, empty room.
I went to the kitchen. The atmosphere was quite dark; only one light was on in the rather large kitchen. I opened the fridge and only saw a few sandwiches and some other frozen foods. I took one of the frozen meals from the fridge and heated it in the microwave.
After waiting for quite a while, I took it out, holding back the heat in my hands. I sat at the dining table alone with a rather dark atmosphere and the faint sound of the snowstorm that I could still hear inside the house. I ate the food slowly, ignoring the stinging heat in my mouth.
When I finished eating, I didn't remember the sensation of the food.
I went to my daughter's room. I slowly walked in and sat in the chair next to her bed, watching her sleep. No, maybe she was just pretending to sleep to ignore me... I hate remembering that I am a bad father.
Sometimes I feel like I have forgotten something... Something I truly despise and find difficult to remember. But on that night, I stared at the window in my daughter's room, trying to recall it... trying to remember something I didn't want to remember.
Remembering that I hadn't showered, I quickly went to the bathroom to take a shower, because I didn't want my daughter to smell my stink. I would definitely be embarrassed by that.
After showering, I continued to reflect on the things I had done and the thing I didn't want to remember. I tried to remember it even though it was difficult, even though it was the thing I did not want to recall.