Re-post from facebook.. i had problem earlier to copy into this blog.
Mom used to dress us alike. At times three of us would have the same dress material and color but with different designs. Sometimes, mom only dressed two of us alike and the other differently. I’m the middle child. As a result, (I had a middle child syndrome... opps..) would be either dressed similarly to my elder sis or my younger sis. Some other times, mom would just dress us all differently. But most of the times, I would end up being boria (uniformed) with either one of my sisters.
It’s actually very cute of my mom and some of these dresses were tailored by my mom. I love em and I even remember how it felt wearing them.I never really rebelled over the similarities until I was a teenager. By then, I made sure even the baju kurung cloths are not of the same motifs. Drama Queen, yes.... but now, tak kesah...siap sistem barter baju with my sistas...
in jeans....obviously trying to be different
The shoes… different from the dresses, we usually had the freedom to choose our own shoes... I can recall the shop we always went to...(still operating in bm) Ouh... talking about dramas... i clearly remember one incident... and it was all because of a pair of shoes.
This white shoes… I don’t remember choosing this one, but I remember loving it so much. I was proud of this pair of shoes and I made sure no one touched it.One day (I was 5 years old) my mom allowed my sister to wear it, we were all supposed to go to the town. She always wanted to try it but I never let her near em. I went all amok and wouldn’t budge until I got my shoes back. Mom tried to persuade but I wasn't listening... so mom left me with dad at home, and went to town with my 2 sisters. I cried, holding on to my beloved window pane, looking at them leave the house with my sister wearing my white shoes. I cried out loud…and shouted “Ye Sappate…” (my shoes) over and over… and I must have fallen asleep crying. Hahaha… :P
Spent the rest of the day with my dad… It was fun as my dad was trying to build up my mood back. When it was getting dark, they came back and headed straight to the pasar malam (night market, just a walking distance) after informing my dad.
Dad dressed me to join them there. Reaching the pasar malam, we slowly walked down the slope; then I saw my mom and sisters not far away. I was very excited; I have forgotten all my anger by then. Forget the shoes… I miss them already! I let go off my dad’s hand and ran down the slope towards them. I vaguely hear my dad shouting something to me. Last thing I remembered, I saw a bright light.
I opened my eyes and I was lying on the road. There was a motorbike in front of me and people surrounding me, and my mom, sisters and dad. I was hit by the motorbike. It was nothing serious but due to that small impact, I fell on the road and had a deep graze wound on my knees and some scratches on my hands.
Then I was carried back to our house. I remember both my parents tending to me while my sisters curiously watched me crying dramatically. My parents put biskut Jacob’s on my arms to sooth the bruises. (Some old-grannies remedies for in-house medication) My mom was not angry, like she was earlier that day. I only see love and deep concern in both my parents’ eyes.
Of course, as I grow up, I realized mom was not angry because she didn’t love me but because I was just overly rebellious. :P:P~
All because of a pair of white shoes...
Lessons I learned:
- Never to be toooo selfish
- I will never let go off my dad’s hand again (metaphorically speaking)
- Parents love… can never be compromised
- Road safety = important... even in pasar malams. (I hate crossing roads even until now)
- biskut Jacob's is a multi-purpose food.
:-) how time flies... how fast have we grown...my niece is now 5 years old.....
