banjia

Whew.. Now that the madness of TBM is almost over, there’s finally time to sit down and share. The past couple of weeks have been absolute chaos, do you have any idea how painful it is to pack up and move after 18 long years? The memories! THe moments! The unholy mess. I kept pausing in my packing to reminisce and stare at old photos and shed a tear or two. We’ve loved and laughed and experienced loss in that place, we’ve fought and made up and made good. We’ve broken rules (me many, many rules, my siblings less so) and sneaked out (I unfortunately got caught but avoided the scolding by asking Pops if he really really meant to tell me he’d never sneaked out in his life. Thankfully, my father was no saint in his youth!) and snuck people back in. We learned to walk, and talk, and talk back to our parents. We had Little Tikes cars that turned into real cars, and toy castles and Thomas the tank engine (the castle’s in the making as we speak). We had a trampoline (boing boing boing). We had pet cats and pet rabbits, terrapins that never died and a guinea pig that lasted a week (poor experimental animal) and pet dogs (those we still have). We made pitiful attempts to play the piano, but we were a roaring success at Rockband and Guitar Hero. We had pajama parties and sleepovers (though some of these were certainly unplanned) where we never slept. But we slept through many a chinese tuition session. We brought boyfriends home to meet the parents (no girlfriends in sight as of yet). We got our hearts broken or we broke others. We got drunk, plenty drunk. And we shared many a good meal (always about the company, the food wasn’t always that great) and several bottles of wine around that table.

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There are cigar burns on the sofa on the patio cos Pops loves to sit there and sip his scotch. There are scribbles of my first crush on the desk. There’s a time capsule buried somewhere in the garden, with little relics of my brother’s Sec1 class. There are markings on the wall where my sister grew (and keeps growing). There is a creaky old gate that almost never works and lighting that never comes on when you need it. But good lord do I love the place.

But there is nothing wrong with change if it is in the right direction, and I do quite like the direction we’re moving in.

So long my little house on the hill. We sure will miss you.

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