pigs live here

Dinner was finally ready, and the family gathered around the table to eat. The table was set with with bowls of steaming rice and plates full of fresh kimchi, steamed yams, beef short rib and roasted seaweed. The kids began to eat, and my dad, as was his custom, called out into the kitchen for my mother to join us at the table.

"No, I have to start cleaning the house," came the curt and cold response. My dad looked stunned. Almost instantly the mood in the house chilled. I glanced over at my sister, Laurie, who shrugged in reply. I turned back to my plate and began to pick at my rice.

My mother marched around the living room, angrily picking up discarded jackets, socks, and backpacks. Once she finished collecting the offending articles of clothing, she then carried the entire heap into each of our rooms, dropping off the goods as she went. My dad watched silently from the dinner table, unsure of what he should do.

A few moments passed. "Honey," he called out sweetly, "can't that wait until after we've had a family dinner?"

"No, it can't." I paused for a second with kimchi and rice still in my mouth, trying to make sense of the situation. Meanwhile, my brother, Sean, seven years old then, continued to stuff his face with food, oblivious to the Cold War brewing between my father and mother.

My dad sighed dejectedly and rose from the table. My mom marched past him, both hands full of books and magazines not in their right places. Now on his feet but not knowing where to start, he decided to arrange the sofa cushions in a more presentable fashion.

"Do you think you're helping?" my mom sneered, dismissive of my dad's small gesture. My dad put both hands on his hips, as if to say, Well, what the fuck then?

"This house is ALWAYS a mess. And no one in this family cares to keep it clean or to help me every now and then. No one!" she thundered.

This outburst killed my appetite completely. I turned to Laurie and Sean, who had also set down their chopsticks and now guiltily wanted to help. Together, we rose up and joined our dad in clearing the living room.

My mom, of course, interpreted this as an act of rebellion. Instead of attacking us, she continued to point fingers at my dad.

"You lazy bum. Look at you. We both work, and yet when you come home, you do nothing. I do everything in this house, and you don't do anything but sit there and look stupid."

I winced. I looked at him and could sense the fire growing behind my father's eyes. I was afraid that this would escalate into some all-out war over nothing. I shouldn't have counted my dad out, who after several years of marriage, knew how to defuse my mom's hot temper.

"If you ask, I'll help. You know that. I mean, really, what's the point? We do what we can but we all know that the mess is going to return tomorrow anyway..."

"MOH-RA-GOH? (What did you say?) Look at this place!" My mom's face turned hard like stone. "It looks like PIGS live here."

"Honey..." he answered a bit softly now. He held up some of Sean's toys for my mom to see. "This is a mess, huh? Do you wanna know what I think?"

My mom stared back at him in confusion. What trickery is this?

"This is how I know that our kids have passed through here. This is the mess of a family, of a happy home."

My mother let out a short laugh, then shook her head in defeat. I hate it when you're right, her smile seemed to say. We all looked to my father, and following his lead, joined him at the table to finish our dinner.