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Behind the scene of the traditional family
The dinner table. That was the only time, where I saw my father for more than five minutes. I could clearly remember how my Father first protested against being on time to dinner.
“I’m too busy to sit on the table.” he said and continued. “I’m the one who gets food on the table.”
He shouldn’t have said it. That were the first and only time I saw my mother get real angry.
“If you can’t even be here on time for dinner. For your children! Or for your wife! Then I am going to find a real man! With real manners! That can find time for family and me! Then find time for work!” She said, her blond hair flying everywhere in her face.
I don’t know if my father got scared of the red face or the threat she threw at him. But I don’t care. At least I saw him at the dinner table.
But not today.
The tension never left the table. The clock was 10 minutes past 7 and father was still not home. My favorite meal consisting of roasted potatoes with rice and vegetables was getting cold, because my mom keep repeating that he would come and that it would be rude to not trust him to come on time.
3 minutes later
The silence was suffocating. My mother kept getting more red in her face, my brother kept fidgeting and I was getting restless and hungry. Why wasn’t father here? Did he forget?
10 minutes later
The food was getting cold. I can’t take it anymore. My mother right eye blinked. A sign of the silence anger she felt. I know my father was getting a beating when he came home. If he came home. I don’t know why he didn’t come. I went so well.
Everytime my father came home, he went to the dinner table, sat on the chair and asked how are day was going. He had never asked that before.
Of course my brother was excited, because he finally got his daddy back and always exaggerated about how his day was going. He obviously wanted to get Father proud, but Father kept glancing at the clock to my back. My mother found out and moved the clock to the living room.
15 minutes later
The clock was 28 minutes past 7 and I was both hungry and angry. Why wasn’t father here! My brothers stomach kept rumbling and after 3 minutes our mother finally let us eat. But on the condition that we go straight to our room and sleep.
“Why?” my brother asked.
“Because he doesn’t deserve to see your pretty face.” My mom said with a tight voice flipping her blond hair back. I knew she was lying, but if told anything, I would get a beating for speaking back.
So I ate the cold roaster with the vegetables and hard rice till I couldn’t anymore. When I was finished I got up to my room. 10 minutes later I could hear the front door open. And then a lot of yelling, my father saying that he forgot.
Tired, I pushed my pillow over the head, not knowing that I would never see my father again.
Svar #1
19. september 2013 af MalcoP (Slettet)
The dinner table. That was the only time, where I saw my father for more than five minutes. I could clearly remember how my Father first protested against being on time to dinner.
“I’m too busy to sit at the table.” he said and continued. “I’m the one who gets food on the table.”
He shouldn’t have said it. That was the first and only time I saw my mother get really angry.
“If you can’t even be on time for dinner, your kids or for your wife, then I am going to find a real man, with real manners, who will be able to actually find time for the kids and me. You can't even find time for work!" She said, with her blonde hair flying everywhere.
I don’t know if my father got scared of the red face or the threat she threw at him. But I don’t care. At least I saw him at the dinner table.
But not today.
The tension never left the table. The clock was 10 minutes past 7 and my father was still not at home. My favorite meal consisting of roasted potatoes with rice and vegetables was getting cold, because my mom kept repeating that he would come and that it would be rude to not trust him to come on time.
3 minutes later
The silence was suffocating. My mother kept getting more red in her face, my brother kept fidgeting(?) and I was getting restless and hungry. Why wasn’t father here? Did he forget?
10 minutes later
The food was getting cold. I can’t take it anymore. My mother right eye blinked. A sign of the silence anger she felt. I know my father was getting a beating when he came home. If he even came home. I don’t know why he didn’t come.
Everytime my father came home, he went to the dinner table, sat on the chair and asked us how our day was going. He had never asked that before.
Of course my brother was excited, because he finally got his daddy back and always exaggerated about how his day was going. He obviously wanted to get Father proud, but Father kept glancing at the clock to my back. My mother found out and moved the clock to the living room.
15 minutes later
The clock was 28 minutes past 7 and. And I had a mixed feeling of hunger and anger. Why wasn’t father here? My brothers stomach kept rumbling, and after 3 minutes our mother finally let us eat. But on the condition that we go straight to our room and sleep.
“Why?” my brother asked.
“Because he doesn’t deserve to see your pretty faces.” My mom said with a tight voice flipping her blond hair back. I knew she was lying, but if told anything, I would get a beating for speaking back.
So I ate the cold roaster with the vegetables and hard rice till I couldn’t anymore. When I was finished I got up to my room. 10 minutes later I could hear the front door open. And then a lot of yelling, my father saying that he forgot.
Tired, I pushed my pillow over my head, not knowing if I'd ever see my father again
>Pas på du ikke skriver for meget i talesprog. Fx: "That's the first time I say my mother get >real< angry"
Du havde en "dobbelt negativ" i din sidste sætning, men jeg regner med at du mente det som jeg rettede det til.
Går kun på C niveau indtil videre, men der er i hvert fald blevet rettet en del. Du må nok hellere selv finpudse den, hvis du får tid.
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