206: 18.4 Spring

The sun is shining, flowers are blooming, ducks are quacking and families of geese are leaving their excrement on our pavements.

Yes, it is officially spring! Time to dust off my long neglected sunglasses.

205: 17.4 Photographs

On my trip back home, I went through old family albums and found some priceless photos. Photos of moments forgotten by fallible human memory. Unlike myself, my papa was so good at recording these moments - on old film cameras and chunky video cameras. He would be in the corner of the room, quietly observing and recording the most ordinary of days. But mediocre days back then become priceless decades later as today, I get to see my late grandfather's smile and hear his voice on screen as he walked little me across the garden. Moments like that fly by so fast, like in a blink of an eye and I am grateful that my papa was so patient and steadfast in his recording of them.

Since they were first taken, the photos now have gracefully aged with time. And like everything else, there will come a day where these photos will cease to be identified. I guess this is where digital photos come in - memories can now be preserved forever in simple and accessible hard disks. But there is also the personal conundrum of being in the moment, and recording the moment for later. I am so bad at taking photos or videos of things that I would like to remember because I wanted to experience things through my own eyes rather than a phone screen. This is why I came back from a three week holiday in Malaysia with a measly few photos to account for it.

I would probably need to find a balance, to take more photos and videos and to not feel so awkward in recording moments. Because when I am old and grey, I would really would like to have the opportunity to reminisce on my good old days. On a comfortable couch, a cup of tea in hand, probably looking at holograms or a virtual reality experiences (or whatever young people will invent in the future) of old memories, untarnished by time.

204: 16.4 Going home?

As quickly as a blink of an eye, my heavenly three weeks in Malaysia have come to an end and it is time to go back to London (home?) to face the mundanity of reality. It has been so nice to spend time with family and friends, which always makes it harder to leave.

I wish there was a transporter (like those floo powder links in Harry Potter) where one can be transported anywhere in a second. I can work Mondays to Fridays and go back to KL to spend the weekend with family, perhaps? That way, I wouldn’t have to miss as many weddings, birthdays, bridal showers, graduations and family reunions like I have for the past several years. 

Before stepping into the car on the way to the airport, Mama said, “Ayne is going overseas as an ibadah. InshaAllah, she will be rewarded for her sacrifices.” There is magic in a mother’s words - they somehow make heavy things feel lighter. 

And as I am currently in a plane quickly descending into Heathrow Airport, a part of me wishes that I could board a plane straight back to where I was. 

Till next time, Malaysia. I will see you soon again inshaAllah. 

203: 15.4 11 years

Me and you, 11 years ago. Look where we have been, my love, and I can’t wait to see where forever will bring us.

All my love,

Your wife

202: 14.4 Rays

We had a couple of days of intense heat these past few days. Ones with no sign of rain. The sun’s rays were particular testing so much so that I found myself unable to sleep at my inlaws despite having the fan on on full blast. A had to kindly wipe iced water on me using a cloth to cool me down (his idea, not mine!).

But I knew it was unlike any other days when during a drive to my friends’ house, my phone threw up its hands in defeat after overheating. It was placed on the car’s dashboard as I was using it to navigate myself there, and suddenly the map that it showed was no longer visible and instead a picture of a thermometer appeared on its screen. 

It said that my phone’s temperature was too high and it has locked itself down. As this has never happened before, I went into a bit of a panic and stopped the car on the side of the road. Unlocking my phone from its holder, I placed it on the air conditioner that was spouting out semi-cold air in efforts to cool it off like A was cooling me off with ice cloths last night. 

I even opened my windows a little bit to let out all of the hot air from the inside of the car. Needless to say, I too was close to throwing a tantrum too, being drenched in sweat and all. But thankfully after a few minutes, my phone came back to life and I resumed my journey, being careful to place my temperamental phone in a place of shade.

After that ordeal, you can imagine the joyful glee I was in when the next day, the sky suddenly opened up and a river of rain poured down from the Heavens. It was truly a blissful moment!

201: 13.4 Blackout

Several nights ago, I was rudely awoken from slumber to find that I was drenched in sweat. The air was still, humid and heavy. The nightlight at the corner of the room was off and the fan and air conditioner was also not running. 

I turned to A, still in very deep slumber, and gave him a few pats. “I think there is no electricity,” I whispered, “Can you please check the fuse box?”

Half asleep, his eyelids still heavy, he slowly got up from the bed, guiding himself through the dark using the light found on his phone. He checked whether a flip of a switch may be able to reverse this. Unfortunately, it was not a local problem - we peered out the window to find that our neighbours’ houses were also pitch black. This was officially a neighbourhood blackout. 

A called the local electricity company to be informed that the problem is currently being rectified and it will take another 1-2 hours. We resorted to manually fanning ourselves with magazines to help us relax back to sleep. But we found it pretty difficult to unwind whilst breathing this solid, stationary air.

In the end, I decided to sleep on the marble tiles as that was the only thing that was remotely cold. The fridge was out of service and we had no portable fans. The tiles felt like ice on my skin and thats where I found enough comfort to shut my eyes temporarily and sleep. A could have slept anywhere - he is sturdier in withstanding heat than I am. But not wanting me to sleep alone on the floor, he too laid himself next to me albeit on the carpet. He held my hand in his and all that I could think was how lucky am I to be his. And how strange a predicament we have found ourselves in now.

After an hour or so, the lights were back on and we rejoiced at the prospect in snuggling under the duvet again.

200: 12.4 Friends

There are many who I have the privilege of knowing for a decade or more, some who I have even known since birth. They have witnessed them grow from giggly school children to awkward teenagers to our current stage in life where we are trying to navigate ourselves through adulthood. They too have seen me gone through the same journey. I know their families, and they know mine. You know that you are good friends when we ask each other, "How is your mom? Is your dad still busy pursuing that hobby of his? Is your grandmother well? How is your sister coping with school?"

They are the friends who have active conversations on social media with your parents and grandmother through comment sections. Sometimes, even more than you do! They were there for when you were blowing the candles off of your 12th birthday cake and they were also there when you took your first official steps as a wife. Some accompanied you through the loneliness of being abroad and have seen you through to university and now to work. Amongst the constant changes of home addresses, colleagues, jobs and fashion styles, they have been some of the constant constants in life. And you feel so lucky to still be rewarded with their presence in your life.

Sometimes I wonder whether there is a point to forming new friendships if I already have them? The induction of becoming newly found friends involves the sometimes painful and dreary process of a lot of small talk, niceties and baseless praise. Some make friends ever so easily, but I have always found difficulties that are hard to shake off.

But I find hope in knowing that my forever friends now did start off as strangers many years ago. Through trial and error, I have learnt that friendships that are worth fighting for always start from ground zero and takes effort and time for its strong foundations to be built. Many times, those same foundations which you thought would survive any weather may start to form cracks. Some may just crumble back to ground zero. But there are those that strongly stand tall for many years despite the neglect.

For every relationship to survive, you must commit to working on it. That maybe in the form of having a sleepover once a year, or that may involve a text or an email ever so often. Or maybe a simple dinner once in a while. Friendships created are only sustained with the time and work you put into it.

So for all my forever friends whom I had the pleasure of catching up with (and those who I didn't get the chance to) these past few weeks, I am honoured to (still) be in your lives. Please reconsider me for the same friendship position next year.

199: 11.4 Feeling pampered

It is a gross falsity to think that because we wear the headscarf, Muslim hijabis do not take pride in their hair. Because the truth couldn't be further than that statement. In high school dormitories and homes nationwide, there are millions of Muslim girls who are unravelling their headscarves after coming home from school or work to let out their well groomed hair. From hair of different colours and styles to those that are straightened or permed. Our lovely locks are ours, and we take great care in maintaining them.

Sadly because of the lack of many adequate hair facilities catering for Muslim women in the West, I normally save my sessions of expert hair care for my trips back to Malaysia. This time back I ventured into a women's only salon located in the outskirts of the city. There, customers walk in and can confidently shed of their hijabs for a couple of hours of hair sprucing whilst still adhering to our faith. This trip alone I have gone to the salon twice for multiple hair treatments. Every year, I would try something new and this year was no exception.

Similar to massages, there is something so relaxing when at the salon, a person is washing your hair for you. Having their fingers slowly massage one's scalp whilst detangling one's straggly locks under the soft pulsations of warm water, it is heavenly! And after the hair wash, there is the soothing blow dry. Where the hair stylists would warmly blow out the once neglected hair to reveal a bouncy spirit in one's threads that has not been visible for a long period of time.

Sometimes I wonder whether I go to spas and hair salons not for any particular reason except to pamper myself. And although alot of money has been spent doing just that, I feel that as it is a once-a-year affair, every cent is ultimately worth it.

So for now my hair has been reunited with its youthful inner soul albeit temporarily - until the annual trip to the hair salon.

198: 10.4 Potating

Thought of today: Is this what it feels like to be a human potato?

After just over two weeks in Malaysia, I am pretty sure that I have grown in girth. Thighs, waist, arms and cheeks have been affected - and I am worried that Hazel (my bicycle) will not be able to cope with its owner's extra weight during its daily work commute.

197: 9.4 A Hard Day

*Details in this post are partly fictitious*

A few weeks ago, a few days shy before hopping on a plane back to KL for an overdue holiday, I was working one of the many on-call shifts (ones that I had to do early to make up for the ones that I will miss). I remember it vividly as the day that I came home, went into the bedroom and broke down in tears.

There was a crash call earlier that day.
My beep went off.
"Cardiac arrest call, Ward A. Cardiac arrest call, Ward A."

Like others on-call, I ran down the stairs heading to the emergency. Upon arriving to the corridor, the nurses were shouting, "That bay, doctor! That bay!" Before discovering who the patient was, my heart sank down into my feet - I knew who this patient was. When I got there, my worst fears became true - it was my patient, she had just moved wards last week. There were people frantically giving her CPR and others scrambling to get viable access for medication. In the background, I heard her husband wailing in the corridor.

I jumped in and continued CPR. "Do not die on me. Do not dare die on me," I thought with every jump of the chest. The conversations I had with her a few days ago ran through my mind - she seemed so well and was gaining strength with each passing day. Multiple shocks were administered without any avail. We continued CPR - I could feel and hear her ribs breaking under my hands.

We repeated the cycle every 2 minutes for almost an hour. In hindsight, we should have stopped earlier as it was clear that we were never going to get her back. But many of us knew her and her story, so giving up prematurely was initially not an option. But after 50 minutes, we all agreed that whatever we were doing was futile - she was gone.

Tthere was a deafening silence around her bedside. We were all quietly mourning her passing - heads down, eyes fixated on her lifeless body. I held her hand, and whispered in her ear, "It is ok, you are safe." I thought it was worthwhile despite knowing that she was too far gone to hear me. After a while, people started to leave the cubicle. Senior doctors broke the bad news with the family whilst I helped the nursing staff clean her body. Sheets covered with blood and gastric juices were replaced with clean ones, lines were removed and before exiting the ward, I closed both of her eyes shut. She looked like she was peacefully sleeping just then.

Feeling exceptionally numb physically and mentally, I was faced with the reality that despite how traumatising that ordeal was, it was only the beginning of my shift - there are many more potential emergencies that could follow on later today. I had to keep it together. But having found a quiet, dark corner of the hospital, I put on my earphones and blasted loud music to drown out the emotions and thoughts that were reeling in my head. Looking back, I am thankful for those bleep-free moments of sanity - I couldn't have completed my shift otherwise.

When I retuned home that night, the extra headspace that was afforded through the serenity of my familiar bedroom allowed for buried emotions to instantly resurface. I was sitting with A, his arms around me whilst I repeated, "We couldn't save her."

196: 8.4 Family reunions

We hosted a family reunion yesterday in celebration of my brother's epic high school examinations results. It was a true family affair with my dad roasting the lamb on the grill whilst my brother, A and I were busy in the kitchen cooking up nasi lemak to feed 60+ guests. We were preparing for the feast two nights in advance with my brother and I chopping onions, slowly sweating them in the pan up till tweaking the taste of the sambal the morning of. It was a nice opportunity to also bond with my brother. In a blink of an eye, this once little boy has grown up to be a hippy version of a gentleman. And as he has until recently been away in boarding school most of the time I have been back home, we never got the chance to talk until now. Talking about school, relationships, growing pains and work - it felt really nice.

The day of the kenduri, we woke up early to tie up loose ends. I woke up with a throbbing headache that morning, so I was mostly half asleep whilst chopping up cucumber and halving eggs. Thankfully, most things were ready an hour before guests were anticipated to arrive - so I squeezed in a much needed power nap. When the clock hit noon, the firsts guests arrived followed by a steady wave of many others throughout the day until just before sun down. We feasted, we laughed and I managed to catch up with many of my family and friends whom I haven't seen in a while.

Since the last kenduri I attended, the family has expanded. There were babies that I have not met before, and the babies that I did meet last year have now grown into confidently walking and talking toddlers. There were so many of us at one point, that I just had to sit down in a corner to slowly take it all in. "I haven't been in a family gathering in a while. This is overwhelming," I confessed to my cousin. In London, we were blessed to host about 20 people at most in our little flat during Eid, but this must be at least 4-5 times that. The number of beings in the house coupled with the responsibility of being a hostess was definitely a shock to my senses. But after a quick breather, I soon overcame it all and persevered.

Although family reunions involve huge amounts of planning, preparation and patience, it is always to gather everyone together under one roof. This - amongst many other reasons - is one reason why (for now at least) I would not want to retire in UK. It is this sense of family and community what I miss the most. When abroad, it is very easy to have an isolated life. One where someone is devoid of true community. One where someone can exist without truly living. It is almost impossible to be that way in Malaysia. There is always someone's open house or wedding or aqiqah or doa selamat or house warming. One must have a calendar just to keep up with social events alone. However, with that, family members can also be too involved in one's life so much so it is hard to grow independently, or to do something without everyone else and their neighbours knowing about it. But I guess it is a small price to pay for being somewhere where everyone not only knows your name but also cares for you and your family like their own.

Because in the end of the day, they are all you have. God, your family and your friends who might as well be.

195: 7.4 Sweat

Todays question of the day (post eating ones body weight in lamb): Is it possible for someone to perspire oil?

194: 6.4 Roots

Escapism;

the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities.

This is what it feels like when naming both countries, UK and Malaysia, as both (and sometimes, neither) as home. It is framed in the sense of longing to be somewhere else afforded by having multiple places that one associates with home. For instance, I am looking forward to the day when I do not have to endure KL traffic and KL drivers everyday. But when in London, I look forward to the day I return to my childhood home, cocooned by the comforts of family, food and friends. I dislike the unpredictability of London weather (especially snow) as much as I dislike that in KL, I can only spend time with people in some sort of mall (where are all the trees?!). 

I love the accessibility to delicious food when in KL whilst at the same time, I miss feeling less sluggish and more energised, like when I am in London. I treasure how ordinary and plain my lifestyle is in London - being forced to be economical in spending. But I do also enjoy being a complete spendthrift by living a little bit more luxuriously during my short visits back to my hometown. I love being around my family but I also do sometimes yearn for my extra space to be independent. 

Somehow, there are blessings to not planting roots to one piece of ground. Maybe sowing seeds in multiple farms is the way forward for now.

193: 5.4 Starry Sky

Woke up extra early this morning to bring my siblings to the planetarium today. There are a few oddities in this sentence - the fact that my siblings voluntary chose to go to a museum on a day off, and out of my love for them, I woke up super early to drive into the city centre to get there. The building itself was quite impressive albeit abit unkempt. Outside the main entrance there was a guy with a telescope pointed at the glaring sun.

We each had a turn looking into the telescope - it was my first time looking at the sun through filtered lens - so that was quite impressive. But I was more preoccupied at feeling sorry for this man whose job is to stand outside in this hot tropical country convincing people to be interested at his source of discomfort. But he seemed happy enough though.

The museum in the building was quaint. Thankfully the entrance fee was waived today for whatever reason. There were exhibitions on constellations and the theory of how solar systems are formed. Further through the museum, there was an entire exhibition on our sole Malaysian astronaut. "We have a Malaysian astronaut?" asked my brother, quite puzzled at this discovery. "Yes! And we have met him!"

Our uncle was the mission's personal doctor - so for a family dinner many years ago, he brought the nation's astronaut candidates over for a short meet and greet. My brother was a toddler back then, probable explains why he couldn't recall. 

Other than videos of the Malaysian astronaut in space eating soup and conducting prayers, there was not much excitement or interactivity presented to visitors - owing to the fact that most buttons were broken and even the opportunity to zip oneself into a sleeping bag (akin to ones in space) lacked an actual zipper. But we soon found a possible explanation to the faulty exhibitions when a group of hyperactive and enthusiastic group of young school children ran past us. The museum is probably fighting a losing battle with sticky, grimy and aggressive little hands that come with constant school trips.

All in all, it was a good day out - more because I got to spend quality time with my siblings who were growing up way too fast for my liking. Sometimes, I wish that we were on a planet with a lighter force of gravity (maybe the moon!) where time would tick by more slowly (see I did learn something today!).

192: 4.4 Memory Lane

Took a very brief walk down memory lane whilst visiting my youngest brother at my former school. To think that it has been ten years since I was Form 5 at this school - a whole decade has passed - where has time gone? As I passed current students as they were making their way back to the dormitories - fresh faced, bright eyed, filled with big hopes and aspirations - did I look like them back then? Probably, I might have had less spring in my step, but I do see some similarities. Oh God, does that mean I am an auntie now to them?!

I walked by spots where A and I would spend hours talking. I stole a cheeky selfie and sent it to him captioning it: "Back to where we started <3." Those trees, those buildings, those streets - they all bore witness to us growing up. From shy, anxious freshmen to semi-adults who were more confident than we should have been. 

This was once both our safe haven and torture chamber in equal measures. They built an insular environment inside these gates - one with its own rules, culture and traditions. This was where we were trained to be adults before we were barfed out into the harshness of reality. And this was where I found my forever friends, and my forever husband too. And just for that, I cannot thank it enough.

191: 3.4 Fake (Medical) News

"These breathing exercises - it kills cancer cells, and practically cures you!"

She was demonstrating how this miraculous exercises works by breathing in deeply through your nose and waving your arms straight in front of you. There I was in the corner of the room, brows furrowed, a look of confusion plastered on my face, trying my best to hold my tongue. If breathing exercises did cure cancer, what are wasting all this time and money on cancer research for?

Coming back home, this particular problem has really gotten under my skin. The reliance on supplements, religious healing, belief in supernatural forces and fake medical news is so widespread that I can safely estimate that 1 in 2 people that I know will rely on one or more of the above mentioned. And it physically pains me to think that the people who believe in such things are not uneducated people - they are professionals with tertiary or postgraduate education. Even their scholarly background couldn't prevent them from believing and spreading "medicines" that are not based on any fact. It pains me even more that the capitalisation of people's desperation for cures has become such a booming business venture. These religious figures in the form of multiple ustaz who use religious texts or "seeing eyes" to knowingly or ignorantly mislead the vulnerable sick and their families through hocus pocus is just plain wrong. And they are profiting handsomely for it too! Ugh, this just makes my blood boil!

For instance, there was once an aunt who said to me that an ustaz could still detect 10 spots of cancer in her body just by looking at her. What is this nonsense? Does he have XRay vision like XMen?! And the sad things was, that she believed in him. These beliefs are so widespread that it made me question my own tendencies. I was asking myself whether being trained in the West, maybe I was too narrow minded? Yes, I have no faith in faith healing - I am adamant that one does not need someone to pray on your behalf, everyone can ask God for protection on one's own - we have a direct line to Him all the time. But maybe some traditional remedies have some merit that has yet to be discovered?

However, every time I try to understand these things - for instance, a certain leaf from a certain plant cures dengue - my rational brain ends up throwing a hissy fit. None of this makes any sense. End of, full stop.

No, religious "ustaz" figures cant shield you more from "dangerous spells" than your own prayers can.
No, leaves do not cure dengue.
No, there is no evidence for pantang.
No, supplements do not work - you just pee them out anyway.
No, breathing exercises do not cure cancer.
No, your epileptic fits are not caused by you being possessed by jin.
No, vaccines are not a Jewish tool to control Muslims.
No, seeking help from witch doctors is not "Islamic".

Just, no.

190: 2.4 The White House

"Pakcik, tengok rumah ni besar nya! Ada security guard langsung, macam muzium! (Uncle, look at this huge house! They even have a security guard of their own, its like a museum!)"

It was a hot day several years ago, it hadn't rained for a couple of days now. My father's driver was driving me from central Kuala Lumpur back home. Enroute, we passed a house that looked like a mansion. I remember it being white, huge pillars guarded its entrance. Its gate was tall, iron-like structures complete with an outhouse for the guards to rest in. It was then when I made the statement above. I continued on telling him how it made my house look small in comparison.

"Tapi rumah Ayne pon besar (But Ayne, your house is also big)," he replied.
"Ye la, tapi tak sebesar ni! (Yes, but not as big as this!)"
"Tapi rumah Ayne bungalow, banyak bilik, ada ruang untuk kereta juga. Besar la tu! (But your house is a bungalow with many rooms and space to park cars. Your house is big!)"

I stopped to think, and acknowledged the truth in his statement. Yes, my house was not as big as this house/ library like structure but it is still large compared to many houses - even compared to many of our neighbours' houses. It made me realise that one's outlook really depends on one's vantage point. Looking upstream, you can be reminded at how little you have in life in comparison. But if you turn and look downstream, that can provide a completely different picture all together.

Suddenly, things that you take for granted, like a private porch to park multiple cars safely, look like a luxury not afforded by the masses. And things like having a large living area and a separate dining area just for eating together with family become things to be extra grateful for.

Growing up, my close friends were somewhat from similar backgrounds to myself. Our parents were educated and were working in professional fields, being chauffeured by drivers was a normality, elaborate birthday parties were held practically every month and holidays overseas was something we all did during school holidays. As a child, I was never aware of any other version of life. It was only in high school that I was aware that there were cars where their windows had to be manually cranked open rather than opened by simply pressing a button. To say that I lived a life of privilege is a definite understatement.

Thankfully age has afforded me with more clarity. The rose tinted glasses that I once saw the world with is now off. And the ugly, inequitable reality of the world has become increasingly apparent. The fact that social mobility upwards is more the exception than the rule, and how wealth seems to always be concentrated to the elite minority pains me. How money seems to open doors of opportunity, education, power and health. And how I could live my life not worrying about ever losing the roof over my head, but at the same time, my neighbours might be silently worried about losing theirs.

I am still in the midst of internally figuring this complicated world that we live in today. But in every process of change, the first step is always the realisation of a problem - and boy, do we have a problem!

189. 1.4 Food

Glorious, glorious food.

I thank God for the mass immigration to Malaysia a century ago to enable us to create such melting pots of authentic and delicious delicacies. Don't get me wrong, Malay, Indian and Chinese dishes stand strong on their own accord, but surely being in close proximities throughout the years have strongly influenced each others palates.

During the past few days, I have had 3 full meals everyday - breakfast, lunch and dinner with snacks in between. Not good for my waistline but oh boy, has it been heaven like! My body was initially slow at adapting to this new regimen, but it has now somehow compensated by placing me into longer food comatose states. After indulging on a plate filled with soft, slow cooked beef ribs yesterday, I barely managed to wake up for noon the next morning only to join my grandma and cousin for a full on meal served on banana leaves. I mean, if I were to eat like this everyday, there is no doubt that I will be enroute to early heart disease. But I take solace in thinking that I am on holiday - so sue me!

In a couple of weeks time I would have to go back to the sad days of cold lunch sandwiches and packaged fruit. Here, I can devour fruits straight from the tree! Utter bliss! But in all honesty, when it comes to food, no one comes close to Asia. With the West who prides itself with seasonings of salt and pepper, we have enough spices to fill an entire room.

Signing off here, to go into another food comatose state before my next glorious meal!

188: 31.3 Green

My mother in law is a bit of a horticultural enthusiast. Her front porch is akin to a gold mine of lush green. There are tall plants, short plants, those that climb and those that hang. Some can be eaten raw and some adds flavours to local dishes. She would describe some as being sturdy and adaptable, and some as manja - requiring additional attention or care.

On mornings when we stay over at my in laws, I would see her carrying a bucket of water with a small pail as she lovingly waters each potted plant. During conversations about children, she would often rhetorically say, "Siapa tak sayang anak sendiri? (Who doesn't love their own children?)" And when I see her watering her plants, that phrase rings in my head - it is as if all these plants are her children. And the fact that they have bloomed so beautifully is a testament to her as a caretaker or "parent".

Especially in the middle of the city where flora is sparse and the heat from vehicles and tower blocks is constantly challenging one's patience and sanity, a beautiful garden seems like a simple, yet powerful antidote for urban stress. There is a table in the porch where her grandchildren would do their homework on, and on weekend mornings when the streets are less busy, it is nice to relax in the living room - tea and book in hand - to take time and just look out the window to appreciate the fruits of her "green fingers" labour.

Maybe someday I too will follow in her footsteps and care for a garden of my own. I just need to stop killing the cacti that I have at home first.

187: 30.3 Home (ii)

In contrast to my previous post, although many things have change, some things thankfully have remained the same. Home is when you can find the light switch in a dark room (literally!). I can reach my hand out, at the right height and distance for my fingers to find the right light switch. It has always been in the same spot since birth - so one needs not working eyes in the morning to light up the room.

Home is when upon your arrival, your favourite fruits are laid on the table, happily waiting to be devoured. Home is when you can happily sprawl out on the couch in front of the television to take an afternoon nap in your pyjamas without an ounce of guilt. Home is Saturday night dinners - when the big family gathers around the dinner table to exchange stories from the past week. Unfiltered,warts and all. It is when I find comfort in my seat around the table despite being absent for a year. And home is when we pray as a family - standing before our Lord with humility and unity.

Home is when my aunt says, "You are going to be 27 already? We are practically the same age!" And it is when I see my once little baby cousins now grown up to become full blown teenagers - acne, moody demeanour and all. Home is my grandmother's laughter - the sort that fills up an entire room. And it is also the stillness of the house in the late afternoons when the everyone is resting in their respective rooms. Especially, when it rains. The familiar smell of rain, the sound of thunder rumbling over the rooftops, the spark of lightning through the window and the fact that we never get TV signal in stormy weather - that is home.

It is very difficult to figure out what to do when I come back here. A part of me wants to explore, eat everything that I can get my hands on in the short time I have, meet everyone that I know and speedily soak in the sights and sounds of Malaysia. But another part of me just wants to cocoon myself in my house and be still. To just be where my loved ones are, because I am afraid that if I flinch, these precious moments will quickly pass me by.