The Profoundness of Small Things
by
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I turned on the shower and waited for the hot water. I undressed and stood in front of the mirror examining myself. My face was weathered and filthy. There was a stain built up twenty-six years, but as the steam filled the room and fogged the mirror, my face looked better than it ever had. My slanted eyes looked black and pierced through the haze. I knew I had the menacing look that came with the feeling of empowerment that I was soon to have. My nostrils flared, telling all that my breath was hot and my words were vicious. There was a glow around my smirk as I knew today was the day I would wash away all of the past and I would start anew, more powerful than I ever had been and more powerful than anyone had known, especially him. The steam overtook the room and I could no longer make out my own reflection in the mirror. I knew it was time, for the past was now gone.
I opened the shower curtain and felt a rush of heat. The water was too hot, but I knew it had to be that way. I wanted nothing to remain, even if it meant burning off the exposed layer. I closed my eyes and took my last look of what I once was. The hot water was painful, but I knew I could endure a little more. With my skin tingling and my pores opening, it felt like a release of the old and the arrival of what I knew had been trapped inside. Now everyone would see what I had known all along. I was nothing like him. I was successful, resilient, strong, proud and rich. I would soon have everything when later I would make the two long awaited additions to my coveted collection. All of it will be to separate myself from the rest, so that no one would be able to say there was anything of him in me. I thought of all the agony I felt under his indifference. Even with the heat of the water and steam, I felt my body overheating from the anxiety of contemplating the enigmas that were his life, personality, attitude and priorities. Somehow, all of it was to make me feel like I was less than what I was and that in some way I was just like him. I lowered my head and let the water run off my face. The agitation from the heat led me to conclude that it was an impossibility that I was incapable of caring; of surrendering completely to another. It was an impossibility that I was unambitious when a beneficial opportunity was within reach. In other words, I was smarter at the game of life than my predecessor was. And I was more adept at changing the situation to my advantage given what I had to deal with compared to others around me. Unfortunately, she would never truly know, as I did, because she was not my father’s son. That was a person who no longer existed--.
The easiest thing to do when encountering a dog was to say it was merely a dog, a furry object to look at and pet. Poo did not act similarly when he saw me. There was so much more to him. He was a living, breathing, feeling form of life that at all times knew where he was, where I was and the person I was. He loved me in the only way he could by expressing the most complex feeling in such a simple way that someone as dense as I could eventually perceive. He showed his love through his looks. His eyes never flinched while he looked at me even if I was not interested. Excitement took over his body whenever I came home. Each and every time I came back after leaving him alone, he greeted me by running up to me barking, but not in an aggressive or woeful tone. It was bright and gleeful. He always tried to climb on me. He was jittery most obviously in his wagging tail. His excitement to see me was the human pleasure of falling in love, because he had been reunited with the one thing that made his life complete. In many ways, he wanted me to know he cared for me, from knowing how to beg, to curling up in a ball to sleep. He knew how to express himself in a way that would draw out compassion and sympathy. He understood how humans thought. Behaviors said everything he could not say. Most of all, he had the patience to tolerate me. Somehow I was enough, but he deserved more. In an unequal relationship, he was skillful at telling me he loved me more than I loved him.
He gave up so much to learn how I wanted him to be, but that was essential to his life. He wanted to be more than he was, for me. He learned to control his body to follow my convenience. He wanted to follow the signals I gave him to please me. He showed me he could read the signs I gave even though he had no one to ask, no one else to help him and nothing in his experience to guide him. He evolved into what he was today out of the love in his heart. When I held him close and felt his heart beat, I knew there was more there than muscle and blood. He had a soul that built upon itself. In a successive fashion, he had a life. He was an individual that licked himself or scratched himself against the furniture in his comical ways. He was beautiful and graceful with his energetic gait, lean muscular stance and cuddly sleep. He was devoted to me and entertained and soothed me when I needed it. He did for me what I would not do for myself without the expectation of anything in return. With all the excitement and possibility in the world, I could watch him without end, and I should have.
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About the Book
The Profoundness of Small Things explores family dynamics at the juncture of leaving one’s family to start one’s own. An ambitious young man, William, is at the start of the life he always imagined for himself. He has a rewarding career, financial security and a companion, Jennifer. Together, they look forward to the beautiful life awaiting them. However, William cannot leave the past, his father Billy, behind.
William is a geneticist and observes negative personal traits in himself much like he sees in his father. The characters deal with the decisions they make concerning who they are, what their families are and what their purposes are together. The development of their lives takes the reader through themes involving individuality, emotionalism and relationships with insight and humanity.
The Profoundness of Small Things puts the reader in an everyday moment of making a decision that will have great significance to the meaning of the characters’ lives. The book takes the reader through a journey of turmoil and unrest in settling into a resolution about the complexion and consequence of one’s actions.
About the Author
Anthony Hoang grew up in and lives in Minnesota. He studied chemistry and psychology at Northwestern University. He is an assistant high school policy debate coach. This is his first published book.