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Jumaat, 17 Disember 2010

The Plates Story

This is a story about the ceramic plates that are not mine. My father inherited the ceramic plates as well as a number of copper wares. They belong to my late grandmother. She died at our house. I was 12 then. I remember vividly what happened on that evening.
I couldn’t recall my first memory with her. As far as I remember, she lives in a wooden Kampong house. The house is quite dark in the interior due to tall trees shading the house. It was a breezy house day and night. One of the reasons is due to the fact that Kampong house built on stilt. Furthermore, the window’s opening has the same high with an adult. So, a Kampong house ventilated naturally. The bathroom is a three meters by three meters cubicle with zinc wall and sky as the roof. Well supplies water and the water are so chilly that you’ll literally shiver as the water touch your skin. My father later builds a proper bathroom complete with water supplies. He installed a water pump, which pumped water from the well and directed to the bathroom.
My first cousin, De is her favorite. De spends her whole childhood living with our grandmother. After finishing school, she stayed with us to help my mother taking care of us while she’s away for work. There were three of us at that time. We’ll visit our grandmother practically every school holiday. Bus was our ride then. We ought not to pay the ticket since the boss is the brother of my grandmother. I love being at her place. Calm is what I feel. My brother was not there to scream, kick, pull my hair and other stuff that your siblings would do. We were kids then. De later left us when she decided to be on her own and later she married.
At the house lawn, there was a white water apple tree or for the local, it known as “Jambu Air Putih”. My father used to put together a swing hanging from the tree branch. We love the swing. He made one to at our house. Our previous house has a “Rambutan” tree. He also made one under my grandmother house since the house is two meters above the ground level.
As we grew up, she gets older and older. From time to time, she’ll visits us and brings some treats (candy and junk food) for us. As other kids would do, we’ll take whatever people gave us. However, my father didn’t support at all. Candy is bad for your teeth and junk food is bad for you brain. Either way both bring no good for you. That is what I instill in my son’s upbringing. So far, my son didn’t know that candy and chips are edible.
A few years before she died, my father brought her to our house and stayed with us. Being the youngest son, my father is dear to her heart. As other sons and daughter would do, he duly executed his obligation as son. His mother is everything for him. His father died when she was pregnant with him.
When we moved in to our new house, she followed us. Nevertheless, she was there for only five months. De came to our house the day she died. She came with her two kids and her husband by motorbike. Back then, only the rich has cell phone and not all houses installed with fixed line phone. Therefore, it is not easy to contact someone who lived quite far from us. We didn’t call her to come but she suddenly wanted to come to visit our grandmother. Later that night, our grandmother died on the lap of her favorite grandchild. I remember that night was a gloomy night and not a sound heard. Even my little brothers and sister slept early that night.
That was 15 years ago. My mother didn’t know what she supposed to with the plates. Hence, I took them home and placed them on the bookcase. Looking at them bring back the memories. There are five plates. Each has the same motives drawn on it yet there are still uniqueness posses by each of them.
Before, they belong to the kitchen as a serving dish. Now, they are the antiques of my home.


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