Renovations...

As I’m writing this, the house that I grew up in is being torn apart. I heard from Abah yesterday that the kitchen has been knocked down, the cabinets disjointed and the water supply cut-off.

I do feel sad. The address will remain the same but the look and feel will not. What will be left is just the middle portion of the double storey house. The rest will be new…or simply, just different. Mak is even planning to change the current iron grill – the same one that I helped a small bird stuck in-between the intricate design, when I was 14.

The kitchen may look old and had what we called, the 70’s design – mosaic and all. The cabinet was worn out. But I guess, as with all family homes, they have memories. It had always been in the kitchen that we trashed out all our problems, had family meetings, cari uban and of course, where I learnt how to cook. It was also the place where Mak poured a bottle of orange juice on my head. She asked me to prepare a bottle of milk for Pona, but I gave her orange juice instead. It was easier to do. And that was in 1981 – I remember that because I scratched ‘1981’ on one of the tiles in the bathroom.

The renovation will also mean fresh-looking rooms for Dodek and Pona. The same two rooms I used to swap with Jim Bob. Those were the same rooms where I had endless puff of cigarettes while burning the phone lines – the room smelt like rotten tobacco that Abah refused to even breathe if he needed to use the staircase. And I was only 15-16 then…

And who would’ve thought that the same room would then smelt of minyak urut and minyak telon during my confinement period of both Opi and Isya?

But reminiscences aside, I’m happy that Mak and Abah are finally building their dream home. Everything has an expiry date – even memories.

For now – No 8, Jalan 1 is off limits.