little by little.

I’ve been going home more regular lately. It feels strangely good. Strange, because I’ve been staying out for almost 3 years now and during those 3 years, I can even count with my fingers how many times I actually stayed overnight at home. I do feel guilty for not being home often. And I’ve talked about moving back home so many times that nobody’s gonna believe that I can make it because I never kept my words. Going back home lately is actually some kind of achievement for me. I said it feels strangely good because I never thought that I’ll feel good going home. I’ve always thought that my room is not the same anymore; my bed doesn’t have “my” scent already, even my wardrobe is left too long that my clothes got yellowish and smelt “forgotten”. But I realized that I felt good because something just doesn’t change no matter how long I stayed out. It’s still MY home. It still felt warm despite whatever icy emotional wars that never fades in the house ever since before I even move out.

One thing that got me hyped up these days when I go home is due to the existence of my niece. She’s 17 months now and she’s such a cute mischievous bundle of joy. Though she doesn’t really come home that often with my sister, but every time she’s back, she lights up everyone’s mood. Ahh… such a bliss to be a child. No worries, no stress, capable to throw whatever fits whenever possible (and get away with it), being loved and pampered by everyone, doing the simplest things that make people laugh… well at least we all lived the first 5 years of our lives without uncertainties… how I wished I remember how it was like to be a two-year old. Sure it was fun. At least nobody’s going to judge you. All children are cute no matter how annoying they get. They’re all meant to be loved. All deserved to be pampered.

Tiny little things changed bit by bit and the latest things that I realized when I was home last week were all the plants that were planted by grampa, ever since I can remember, went missing. His beautifully shaped multi-colored azaleas, the fern tree that survived for more than 20 years, those different types of vegetables that he used to plant regularly (though I never really dare to eat it ever since I got to know what he used as fertilizer), his beloved bonsais … all of that, was his glory. He was very proud of them and everyone was marveled at his talent, creating those gorgeous plants. Passersby gazed at those bonsais in admiration and many were envious, for it was too beautifully created (though he sold most of them few years before he passed away, which made my dad furious cos he sold it too cheap)…. Those azaleas, was my favorite of all. Three or four colors married to a steady branch in one big pot, skillfully bent into their shapes and designs (he used to cut it into bird shapes, which I’d always thought was shape of planes). I used look at him in amusement whenever he work on his plants. He put so much effort in each and every masterpiece and it still amazes me how brilliant my grampa was. When he passed away, those plants became orphans and left unattended. Some of them slowly got out of shape and some of them decided to accompany grampa to a better place. And when I found out that it went missing last week (I think dad got rid of them), I felt a tinge of pain in my heart. His glory died with him. Bits by bits.

Another thing that changed is gramma. She never calls my name like few months ago. She can’t remember me anymore. In fact, she can’t remember anyone. No words can be used to describe how I felt every time I see her now. She got thinner day by day. Her memories are vanishing. Her smiles are fading. All I can see in her face now is confusion and emptiness. What is she thinking right now? What is in her mind all the time now that she doesn’t remember? I wonder if she still recalls anything. I wonder if she’s putting any efforts to do so. But I’m sure she remembers at least something… Could she? It saddens me whenever I thought of her situation. Her deteriorating memories, her dislocated hips that is recovering slowly, her puzzled expression from not remembering anything… looking at her now is like looking at a rose that we received from our partner. The minute we received it, we started to admire it and before we learn how to appreciate it, it’s time to let it off our hands. We tried hard to preserve it from withering, but we knew one day, the petals will dry up and drop one by one.

I will appreciate the rose that I’ve neglected and almost forgotten. I will remember to shower it with love even though I knew it couldn’t absorb any more of it. Even though I knew one day, all that will be left is the thorny dry stem and I’ll have to pick up the petals from the floor… one by one, pieces by pieces.