vintage

Abang lives in our former home, not far away from my house. but fair enough to make me sweat. his house exactly situated in front of my side to side primary and secondary schools. His house is a bit smaller compared to our current home. Three rooms and the kitchen is in the middle of the house, opposite of the living room. Where I used to do homework, dine, watch tv and pretty much do everything when our house was still small. small enough to make our living worth to live. so to our problems. we have least problems, or perhaps, we didnt even have any problems. I can see and talk to abah like any other regular kids. He was so closed to be unlike now, half of the house is just a gap like a maze, confuse and convolute. 

We lived there 3 years, I think. our live was pretty much simple. Mak would wake us up and walk us to school from Monday to Friday, we would walk together like tiny kids, having to survive a day with constantly nagging teacher. on every weekend, I would walk to nearby van, and bought nasi lemak for everyone. I used to wake up in the morning really early, to have a comfortable time playing playstation, and sometimes would share with abang, sometimes abah, and sometimes with ain. 

I remember when we used to sleep together in the small room. Abang would sleep on the upper bed, and I would sleep in the middle, and ain she had her own bed. we would talk until late night, and each one of us. we fought, talked, argued, and sometimes would swear to kill each other. somehow, our fights would not last more than hours. we would find our way to reconcile. we were bunch of small kids. who wouldnt thought, now, living in the world where the problems keep on harping our mundane life.

I remember, when I skipped from fasting, emak would never allow me to sit together to break fast. I would have to sit somewhere else, and would wait for everyone to finish eating. whatever left, then only, I could start eating. I was the cutest in the family, through my sepet eyes, normally I won. occasionally, I would lose, and have to sit at the side of corner, and slowly praying, someone would

sympathize me.  

Our days were gone. the past tenant had slightly change the house. some of the broken pieces of the cabinet can be quite glaring. However, I saw myself there, 20 years ago, sleeping, playing, laughing, eating, and probably had more love for everything.

perhaps that was the small house meant. a sacred memories kept in jar, locked in time. awaited to be unlocked again. 

I miss our old house. 

or maybe, I just miss each of you.