Tied to his own childhood memories, translated…

My most favorite childhood treat was the "tomatoes soaked in melted sugar".  My mother would broil the tomatoes first, take the skins off, dice them up, placed them into a big bowl, then, poured in the white sugar, stirred, then handed the bowl to me.  While I'd waited for the sugar to melt out completely, as it turned into a bowl of jam, or juice, them, scooped it up with a large spoon.

I loved planting the tomatoes too, because it's like a fruit, but it grows faster than the peaches, the plums, some of the species, in no more than just three months, as it got to about a feet tall, it'd started flowering, and bearing the fruits.  The fruits were red and bright in color, as I looked at them, they'd brought me joys, and decorated by garden.  For a time, I'd planted a species of tomatoes called "Big Boy", it grew to the size of a bowl.  And, as my daughter turned a year old, I'd, made the sugar soaked tomatoes for her, and to this day, I'd still called her, "Tomato princess"

But since my father passed, I'd not eaten it, worried, that it may, awaken a past memory.

Back then I was only nine, my father was in his terminal stage of colon cancer, came home to stay, my mother's friend, Mrs. Lee came to help.

painting on silk, by the writer, courtesy of UDN.com

One day, "Mrs. Lee" made me a bowl of tomatoes in sugar syrup, I was so happy, sat next to my father's bed as I ate.  My father looked at me, his yellowed skin had that rare smile then.  I'd, scooped up a spoonful, not asked, and just, stuffed the spoonful into my father's mouth, then asked him, "Does it taste good?", he'd nodded.

I was so pleased, turned my head, hollered out into the kitchen, "Mrs. Lee, make another bowl!  My dad wants some too!", and, suddenly, my father's face changed color, he'd screamed out loud, "No!  Dad doesn't want any!  Apologize to Mrs. Lee!"

The memories of up to age nine, my father had, never, scolded me, and just that time, and that was, a month before, he'd, passed.

Mrs. Lee left the following day.  And, from that day forth, I bought the tomatoes, and planted them, fed them to my son and my daughter, but I, never, had the tomatoes in sugary syrup ever, again.

This must've been an awful experience for this man, because of how his father reacted, and it'd, shocked him, as he was never yelled at by his father, which made him think, that he'd done something really awful, and it must've, left a deep impression in him, that even now, he'd, not eaten that treat he once loved so much from his own childhood days.

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