I was struck by how time was ebbing away while I was at mum's place over the weekend. Mum's place was always an escape for me. Going back to my former bedroom which dad now occupies, I could almost re enact the memories of my childhood. My room overlooks a playground, this very playground my son fell off the playground equipment 4 years ago and had to be whisked off in an ambulance and treated for fractured tibia and fibula. There was also a multi-purpose court for badminton and sepak takraw and a row of shops which has now changed hands many times. There was once a video rental shop where mum constantly patronize to get her Hong Kong drama series fix. The mama provision store sit directly below my living room, where we bought our freshly grated coconut, beer and ciggies for visitors. Gopal, the shop owner who counts mum as a regular regular and allowed us to buy these questionable items without questioning. I swear we were tempted to knock 3 times on our floor with a bamboo pole and Gopal would send up our groceries. Some things never change, I still tell my mum, "hey I will meet you by Gopal's shop". I wonder where he is now.
Mum has a knack for making the house look pseudo new and refreshing although we've had this home for close to 25 years. She rearranges the furniture, just little adjustments here and there and viola, a new look. We think mum's a genius, a Martha Stewart or sorts. The house recently got a fresh coat of paint after some retrofitting works (home improvement scheme from the govt). Mum's thrilled she got 2 new toilets, new pipes, new kitchen floor, a new fire proof door and wrought iron gates which was literally falling apart. I was hoping to win a big lottery and buy my folks an apartment but since I don't see that happening anytime soon, the new fittings was just what my parents needed. On hindsight, mum always made the home very cozy even though we don't have expensive furnishings. The softness of the tea lights that illuminate the home was enough to make you indulge into a sweet slumber. The harshness of fluorescent lighting can be such a killjoy to anything. Everything looks better fuzzy.
So going back to where I started, going through some of my personal belongings still boxed up in one corner of the bedroom, lies old photo albums, school yearbooks, the odd Home Economics textbook, a stack of birthday cards, letters, diaries, autograph books, things I have forgotten that I even had. Its almost surreal to read those old aerogrammes from old friends, diary entries that still amazes me. Recalling places I have been, food I have eaten, people I have been with, movies I have seen, with who and where. What really amazes me are my primary school friends still remembers me after 30 years. I begin to wonder if they remember my smile or that I was a nasty girl hanging around the old National Library before school hours, not necessarily to borrow books but also to do with some boys in white uniforms with green badges who hung around the vicinity. Reminiscing, I miss that library down at Stamford Road. You almost feel like an academic doing your research in that massive landmark, every book that came with a library card and date due stamped on the first page. Its all so personal back then, now my librarian is a machine.
There's a part in all of us which yearns to go back in time just for a day, to relive the moment, to unite with friends we left behind, to say the things we didn't get to say, to tell them how sorry you were, how much you actually love them but because of choices we had to make then.
I became aunt to a new born baby on Valentine's Day. My younger sister delivered a bouncy baby much to the delight of everyone in the family. Its been almost 11 years since we last had a baby in the household. About time I thought. It was such a thrill to hold a baby. I have almost forgotten how to hold one, to smell them which I feel almost obliged to do. These new born have that unique scent that can never be replicated. My baby sister is now a mother. Feeding and tending to her child, she's now so complete, no longer the little girl I used to know. She's all grown up and ready to embrace motherhood with all her heart and soul. Describing the pain she had to endure without an epidural. While just few short years ago I was listening to her talking about her varsity days.
I am somewhat of a hoarder. I have problems parting with things that may mean very little to some people. I will even keep a stub of a train ticket or a cinema counterfoil. I'd see them once every few years, noticing much they have mildewed and eradicating the occasional silverfish which was chowing up my photo album. My boys are actually enjoying reading what my friends wrote about me in autograph books some 25 years ago. They asked if I still kept in touch with this person or that person. Some I said are in my iphone contacts but many I have lost touch or moved to another country or worse, left the face of this earth.
These are "priceless", I quote my primary school friend who saw my posting of a movie advertisement which I have kept and dated. I did that for a short while. After the watching the movie, I'd go back to the papers, cut up the ad, stick them on a notebook, date them, rate them and who I went the move with. I am sure my friend didn't remember ever having watch that movie let alone with who. I now understands why mum still keep a denim jumper that my sister wore in the early 70s. The same jumper I wore, then my younger sister, its ridiculous. But some things just last forever don't they? Now where did mum kept that woolen booty I wore as a baby. I am 100% sure its around. Now should I even wonder if my mum kept my sister's dried up umbilical stump. I like all things old-school, don't blame me. I just cannot keep up with the latest gadgets. I have problems managing digital photographs, but getting better.
Time, ticking away mercilessly. Listen, that second just gone. If you don't freeze it, don't over estimate that memory of yours...but I do wish time could be slowed down especially when you are happy and yearn for precious moments to linger a little longer. I am not ready to deal with my son's acne problem. That explains why people say "funny how time flies when you are having fun".
No comments:
Post a Comment