Last night as I twirled about the living room
sucking lemon custard from the tub
and feeling the flecks of zest on my tongue
with my two brothers
I caught sight of something
that stopped me in my tracks
Displayed on the piano
were 3 Mid-Autumn Festival lanterns
you know, the colourful ones made with
twine and coloured plastic panels?
they sent a twinge straight to my heart
taking me back to a memory
15 (gawd I 'm that fucking old) years ago
Sit down my children, and I shall tell you a story.
Way back in 1990, I joined a lantern-making competition.
I was seven and though mommy wanted to help me make it
the rules said that it was a 'children's' lantern making contest
and I was adamant to follow the rules.
So I made my little lantern
as best I could
a little rooster, misshapen and nowhere near as colourful
as those sold at the market
We turned up on competition day
mother and I
and to my utter disappointment
every single one of them
had professional looking lanterns
of various shapes, colours, sizes
there was even a dragon
I remember that night vividly
How I hungered to fit in
How I somehow decided it was my mother's fault that I had refused her help
I remember how we were all walking in a group
mothers and children
displaying our creations
I remember how the clouds started to gather overhead
and omnious gray, the sudden wind, the goosebumps on my skin
I remember running with the other children
when the first fat droplets burst on my cheeks
I remember my mother telling me not to run
and me in my great defiance
running even faster
I remember how she gave chase after me
on the dusty street, strewn with little rocks
I remember turning around
just in time
to see her stumble and then fall,
hitting the ground
then I remember the mortification bloom and spread like wildfire in my chest
my heart breaking as i ran towards her
tears streaming down my face
feeling like she was going to die and it was all because of me
I got to her, clung on
my face wet with tears
worry and sorrow furrowing my brow
My mother suffered a pair of skinned knees
I learnt to always listen to the people I love
Oops. realised the title to this post is missing a 'stories'.
(=
sucking lemon custard from the tub
and feeling the flecks of zest on my tongue
with my two brothers
I caught sight of something
that stopped me in my tracks
Displayed on the piano
were 3 Mid-Autumn Festival lanterns
you know, the colourful ones made with
twine and coloured plastic panels?
they sent a twinge straight to my heart
taking me back to a memory
15 (gawd I 'm that fucking old) years ago
Sit down my children, and I shall tell you a story.
Way back in 1990, I joined a lantern-making competition.
I was seven and though mommy wanted to help me make it
the rules said that it was a 'children's' lantern making contest
and I was adamant to follow the rules.
So I made my little lantern
as best I could
a little rooster, misshapen and nowhere near as colourful
as those sold at the market
We turned up on competition day
mother and I
and to my utter disappointment
every single one of them
had professional looking lanterns
of various shapes, colours, sizes
there was even a dragon
I remember that night vividly
How I hungered to fit in
How I somehow decided it was my mother's fault that I had refused her help
I remember how we were all walking in a group
mothers and children
displaying our creations
I remember how the clouds started to gather overhead
and omnious gray, the sudden wind, the goosebumps on my skin
I remember running with the other children
when the first fat droplets burst on my cheeks
I remember my mother telling me not to run
and me in my great defiance
running even faster
I remember how she gave chase after me
on the dusty street, strewn with little rocks
I remember turning around
just in time
to see her stumble and then fall,
hitting the ground
then I remember the mortification bloom and spread like wildfire in my chest
my heart breaking as i ran towards her
tears streaming down my face
feeling like she was going to die and it was all because of me
I got to her, clung on
my face wet with tears
worry and sorrow furrowing my brow
My mother suffered a pair of skinned knees
I learnt to always listen to the people I love
Oops. realised the title to this post is missing a 'stories'.
(=
4 comments:
*tsk tsk tsk*
Misleading advertising; you ought to know the drill. :P
But yes, it is amazing what triggers a reminiscing session.
hahahahah sorry....
(=
Neurotically Wonderful, you're a natural story-teller, Aja. ;)
Thank you Mr. Mob
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