Friday, February 08, 2008

Flesh and blood.

I think of my girl and how much she's grown up. I remember the first time she was brought home, a bundle of writhing pinkness December baby. She was so delicate that it was scary to hold her at first, for fear that I could break something. She was a rather good baby, as I recall. Not that fussy. I would sit by her and rock her to sleep. There was this one particular time when I wasnt careful and I dropped her pull rattle, the kind that you pull and there comes the soothing lullaby. Baby music. I was careless, I was 9 she was a few months old and it hit her on the head. She cried and I felt so so so bad. I didnt dare come to her crib for a few weeks after that. Traumatised, if you like. I was scared I gave her brain damage or if she grew up stupid because of that knock on the head.
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At 2 years old, she was cute with teeth that hurts man when she bites your finger. She was still the baby of the family, and everyone doted on her. We waited a long while for her to come after all.
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At 3 she was still ooh baby you're so cute.
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At 4 she would follow me everywhere I go. And I was her favourite then. I should know because she repeatedly honoured with the royal task of washing her bum after she pooped or insisted that I accompany her to go shi shi. Stuff like that. You know how kids are.
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At 5 she got kinda annoying at times the way she was everywhere. Because I have a cyber date in mIRC or was it ICQ, and I had to put her to bed first, tuck her in, lie by her side until she sleeps but there she was refusing to sleep because the thunder was roaring and well, just because she couldnt sleep and I would be like silently pleading could you please sleep Tiki and I were supposed to have a chatting date!
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At 7 she had ponytails and loved to sing that burung burung ikan ikan song.
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By 9, she has weaned off me somewhat because she doesnt see me that much anymore.
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And 10, the Disney year. Woohoo Zac Efron is like, so hot. Like whatchamean, dawg?
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At 11, black is undisputedly the new pink and cutesy is so out. I shall not conform to other girls ra ra.
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Then, time stilled. So many things happened. Remember that time when she had fever and I was taking care of her. Checking her temperature, trying to get her to eat. She'd get ok, and then she's not again. She'll tug my shirt and say I dont feel so well. In that moment I was so amazed by her trust - she was sick she came to me where's your mama child i've got you buddy you'll be fine.
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Remember that time when the in a way inevitable, in a way evitable, happened to the family and she was at that age when she knew better. She'd draw graffiti on the wall my poor love. I was 20 and she was 11 and my heart broke for her. Beneath her goofy smiles that hid any emotions she was hurting.
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I am now 21 going on 22 and she is now 12 going on 13 and when I think of her I feel a heartache of sorts because I know it takes time to be ok again. And I dont know how to deal with it because we've never done this before. We've done milk bottles and diapers and PS2 and KFC-ing and crushes talk and whatnot but this is new and dangerous territory. She hides her emotions so much that sometimes you'd think she's still a kid but when you really speak to her you sometimes see a glimmer of just how much she's matured or how much she's hiding. Insightful she is. And it's sad how events can make people mature earlier than they should. If there is a way to help her cope. And this is why I want to go home. I want to be there for her again, just like how I used to when she had missing two front teeth and still afraid of the dark. She's a good kid - she shouldnt have to go through all this. May God heal all pain.
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Now that I think of it. Goofiness runs in the family. I could think of another person as well who stupid stupid but actually has things going on inside that you could never guess. Oh, and there's me.

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