Money and Myself

Today I read an article on my favorite newspaper about a boy who chose not to have breakfast everyday to save money for his severly ill mother and his poor family. The story has become a new phenomenon online, and people can't help complimenting such a caring son. I admire him too, but to me the story has a different position from just merely admiration.

I'm the saving kind of person, since I was young. I save for different purpose. When I was in elementary school, I saved the money my parents gave me for breakfast every morning in order to secretly buy a new power ranger DVD, a new set of superhero cards or go out and play videogames with my friends. At the time, I was already aware that our family was not even as wealthy as an average Vietnamese family, and that's why I had never asked my parents for any extra money for entertainment purposes. I thought that I had done the right thing, that I had been a responsible and reasonable son, until my parents found out how I had been spending their money. They god mad at me.

When I left my family to atten high school in Ho Chi Minh City, it was the first time I had to manage my own money. I was a good kid. I understood my childhood lesson well, and I promised to myself that I would not waste any money, if it was not for studying or living purpose. My parents frequently called me during those two years of high school, and the one question they always asked was "Do you still have any money left?". I knew well that they would not be hesitant to send me more money, even if it meant they had to tighten their spending on the rest of the family for the rest of the month; yet I rarely asked them for more money. I also chose not to have breakfast every morning (and that's why the article about the boy just reminds me of my time in High school) just so that I can use less money of my parents. Sometimes I gave up though, like a morning when I felt starving, then I would buy a bowl of noodles to have for breakfast, and try to cut spending somewhere else to compensate for that bowl of noodles. It was a hard time, but I felt so happy that I spent my parents' money well.

During those two years of high school, my consciousness about helping my parents with their finance grew so much. My parents trusted me more than any other parent could trust their son: they never asked what I spent the money for. Never. I guess through two years they knew well what kind of person their son was. One night, my bicycle got stolen due to my carelessness. I called Dad and cried, begging him to move my rented room to a more suburb area of the city so that the living cost would reduce to compensate my stolen bicycle. He refused, but then he had trust in me completely. I, too, promised not to lose their trust.

Three years after that night I got my bicycle stolen, I'm here in America. My parents no longer have to pay for my tuition, nor my living costs, nor my spending. I also worked hard, for two jobs, and earned my own money. The other day, I was skyping with my parents, and they asked me how much I had earned and spent. I earned a lot, but I had spent almost all of them. I didn't feel as bad when I spent the money as when I had to tell Mom how much I spent. It was only then that I realized I had lost my care for my spending, and also my care for the family. Originally, I intended to use the money I earned to send back home and pay my parents' debt. I never did. I spent everything.

Mom heard my answer about how much I had spent, she was silent for a moment, then she said with a smile "Now that you are a University student, there must be so many things to spend on." She didn't ask how I spent the money, because she wanted to keep her trust in me that I would never be wasteful. She was wrong. But I felt bad.

I guess someone has realized something big.

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Baltimore, November 2011.