Good Ol’ Days

My parents messaged me that they successfully received that “important” thing from me, just now. I feel calm, happy but bitterness at the same time (bittersweet is the word isn’t it? ). I’m listening to Debussy right now, remembering about my childhood.
What was it like? It’s like sitting on the balcony with the sun shines on your lap. Your father’s there, your mother’s here, and your sister is studying, trying to complete her 5th grade homework.
You remember well their beauties and youthfulness. You can recall your old house’s surrounding and atmosphere.
Your mom has curves (yeah), your dad’s face is always ruddy. The sound of a female jazz singer mixed smoothly with cymbals and contrebasse. Slow. A little bit of piano is like you’re adding a sour flavor to a warm-tasted dish. Delicious.stock-photo-my-hometown-505008
Yesterday, I had a sadness. I call it Sunday night blues. It eventually becomes… traditional. The feeling of not being able to go back home, never, ever, for a long long time that you don’t even know when. I’m not an adventurous kind of person. Yes I like new things, but I still prefer my family to above all else. Someone even asked me, in the past; about what was my greatest wish? I said I wanted my loved ones to be beside me forever. I mean, I don’t want to lose
anyone. Even just one. I don’t want to choose.
Naive and greedy I am, ain’t I?
My father just sold almost his audio equipment in order to handle a huge debt (rest assured even our house now belongs to someone else that I don’t even know or heard of). He just can’t continue to maintain his hobby anymore. His twenty-something years hobby (Idk, 22 or 25?). I inherited this from him. A sense of art (though I am a newbie, and I don’t know any single fucking thing about art, so please don’t bash me haha). My grandfather was a poetry, a musician, a painter, and he’s gone since my father was so young. I never met him. I just heard stories about him from my parents and my grandmother that he was quite artsy, generous and sophisticated. I am the only one who pursues engineering career in this family. My mom says I have talent like him (my grandfather) but hot-headed just like my grandmother. So that means I am not that sophisticated. But sensitiveness, I have plenty. Such unfortunate combination of characteristic.
I always have the feeling of nostalgia when I come to Singapore. The reason I chose Singapore is because it is not too far from home. I miss Hanoi’s winter, I miss our old small Soviet heating. I miss the feeling of waking up shivering in cold, waiting for my mom’s breakfast downstairs. She would yell at me if I didn’t come. Oh, how I miss such scolding and yelling from her 🙂 When I was 17, it was her who still combed my hair and chose my clothes. It was her, and always been her. And my dad would start his Rachmaninoff collection echoed around the house.
I wish tonight’s dream will be about that time, with them.
(Images taken by me @ 2010)

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