Trying to sleep when you're not feeling tired is really hard. But the cool air from the air-conditioning system kept me lying down. At that moment I just wished for a bolster. I'm used to sleeping with one when I sleep with my granny, 'Wan'.
That was way back when she was still healthy and living happily in her own, old house in Pulau Sebang. It was actually cold at night in the kampung, just like what I'm feeling right now except that it was naturally soothing with all the sound of crickets, house lizards, frogs, rats and the leaves. We would fight among sisters and cousins on whose turn it is to sleep with Wan. She doesn't sleep on an expensive mattress. Hers was just the old, hard 'kekabu' mattress but we still argued for a turn.
I will always remember the strong smell of her ointments on almost every items on and surrounding the bed. It was the focal point of the room. It wasn't even a room. The bed was situated at one side of the hallway. Everybody would stop and even sit on it on the way to the kitchen or from the kitchen to the front part of the house. Wan would sit there, looking out of the window for hours. I wish I could read her mind.
There used to be a lot of chickens running around. There was the pungent smell of cow dung, the earthy smell of mud from the buffalo's den and the smelly goats and sheep. Sadly, all is gone. Things are much different now but the bed is still there. I would stay lying in bed, hugging the bolster even if Wan is already up and about. Everybody would eventually gather and cuddle-up in the bed afterwards. It's the heart of the house. Where we gossip, argue, make-up, laugh and cry.
Talking about bolster makes me remember of Wan. Now Wan is not who she used to be. She is still standing but so much have changed. I will put on a strong face every time I see her. I will try to talk to her as if she still remembers. Remember me, all the people who love her and the memories.
(This article was written before my beloved Wan passed away on 5th October 2004 at the University Malaya Medical Center KL, two months before her 81st birthday).
That was way back when she was still healthy and living happily in her own, old house in Pulau Sebang. It was actually cold at night in the kampung, just like what I'm feeling right now except that it was naturally soothing with all the sound of crickets, house lizards, frogs, rats and the leaves. We would fight among sisters and cousins on whose turn it is to sleep with Wan. She doesn't sleep on an expensive mattress. Hers was just the old, hard 'kekabu' mattress but we still argued for a turn.
I will always remember the strong smell of her ointments on almost every items on and surrounding the bed. It was the focal point of the room. It wasn't even a room. The bed was situated at one side of the hallway. Everybody would stop and even sit on it on the way to the kitchen or from the kitchen to the front part of the house. Wan would sit there, looking out of the window for hours. I wish I could read her mind.
There used to be a lot of chickens running around. There was the pungent smell of cow dung, the earthy smell of mud from the buffalo's den and the smelly goats and sheep. Sadly, all is gone. Things are much different now but the bed is still there. I would stay lying in bed, hugging the bolster even if Wan is already up and about. Everybody would eventually gather and cuddle-up in the bed afterwards. It's the heart of the house. Where we gossip, argue, make-up, laugh and cry.
Talking about bolster makes me remember of Wan. Now Wan is not who she used to be. She is still standing but so much have changed. I will put on a strong face every time I see her. I will try to talk to her as if she still remembers. Remember me, all the people who love her and the memories.
(This article was written before my beloved Wan passed away on 5th October 2004 at the University Malaya Medical Center KL, two months before her 81st birthday).
