The right kind of wrong

“And what is good, Phaedrus,

And what is not good –

Need we ask anyone to tell us these things?”

- Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Gone are the days when right and wrong or good and bad, was clearly defined by parents, teachers, counselors, and the society. I realized this more than ever when my parents came to visit last week. It was heartwarming to have the entire family under one roof, and yet, it wasn’t the same as going home. I got to make the plans, decide on what to do, and their days here revolved around my schedule. I couldn’t put a finger on what it was that kept nagging the back of my head – because they hadn’t changed, they were still my parents, I was still their daughter, and although we were in my house, we were still the same family. And then it struck me – they’d let me go. Not too far – but it was a start. Perhaps they’d accepted that I’d grown up. Or perhaps it was just that they were too lost in a new place, and thus allowed me to lead, since I am from around here. I guess I’ll find out when I go back to Bangkok if I’m still the little girl who is driven around by the driver, or a young woman who’s graduation they attended, and who they waved by to as she went off to work in the morning.

It wasn’t easy – and I think they had to do it consciously. I found out when my mother tried to put a curfew on me for Friday night, and then caught herself, and said, “ Go have fun, and come back whenever you decide.” And when my dad opened the door for me late at night, no questions asked, and said good night, as if it was the most normal thing to do. My parents have always been very protective and involved – so I guess it wasn’t easy. For me, or for them.

But I guess we’re all growing up. They know that I’m going to explore my own good from bad, and right from wrong. They will watch, interfere at times, but mostly watch, approvingly or disapprovingly. Their values are the foundations of the ones that I am going to form. But a foundation determines the strength and durability of a structure, not its shape and identity.

So here goes nothing.

I am now out there to make my own mistakes, and maybe even fall face first. But if I don’t, I’d leave many stones unturned, and never find out what lies beneath. Always inquisitive, and easily intrigued, I know which way I’m going to go. Mom, Dad, everyone, I’m off to find out within myself, what is my real right and wrong.