On Colouring Pencils Memoir

ASSALAMU`ALAIKUM WARAHMATULLAH

Yesterday, my family and I went to town to make some pre-purchase reviews on cell phones before buying one. Once review wasn't enough, I supposed. So yeah. We went to several shops, made comparisons on looks and advantages some phones with some phones. Right now, I have my eyes on SE Xperia X10, SE Xperia Arc S and SE Satio (Idou). It's strange that my attention is ought to buy SE Satio, though it's the oldest among those in the list. I read on Internet, majority put quite low ratings on it. Wonder why...

After we've done the survey, my mother asked dad to stop at a supermarket to buy something...

...and that's when flashback of my obscured childhood memories came across. Sincerely saying, the flashback was pretty damn good, as it reminded me to some scenes of my passed history of which, I didn't have any prior hint of before. Quite intriguing. 

It all began when I stepped to a particular section of the market--the stationery section--where all sorts of stationery stuff that you could think of exist. In that corner, I noticed a bracket table with dozens of colouring pencils boxes which were had been arranged nicely by the supermarket staff. Some of them were as well scattered. On that table, my eyes caught a familiar sight, of a familiar object. I took that object, a box, caressed it and that's when a sudden zap struck me. From my fingers, right to my brain: a wondrous reminiscent inundated (all that I can say is, I am exaggerating :D).

The very moment I touched that box packed with 12 colouring pencils, I was somewhat petrified. The texture, the feeling, the utter childishness... they summoned an unfathomable feeling. A longing sensation that hovered in the air, as if sentencing me as an odious guilt. Oh how clumsy I was about the future, I forgot about those small things I used to like during my childhood (now, NadJoliey's blog tagline races across my head. Yes, those small things will forever be the big things we missed so much LOL).

It was clear...

Twelve years ago was perhaps the time our family's poorest state. I'm not ashamed to admit the fact that we lived in such poor condition, hitherto sometimes, living on others' compassion. We, Malay put it as, "Kais pagi, makan pagi. Kais petang, makan petang". Like, seriously. My mother was a teacher back then (so as she is now), and my father was a pick-up driver. We did a small business, selling sweets and crackers to pupils in the school where my mother was teaching. Anyway, let us go back to the story line.

It was the night before my very first school experience. In due to that, my mother brought me to a supermarket, about a kilometre away from our house. The name's "Sukaramai" I think, yeah: "Sukaramai". We made our way there by foot around 7PM. Traffics were quite calm, the sky was as clear as I can be. Being an enthusiastic child like any other seven years old boy, of course doing shopping for my first class was as evoking as waiting 'Ultraman' to play in motion, and though we lived quite in intermediate state, we lived our childhood age merrily (kudos to ayah and ibu).

So we walked. We walked for about a quarter hour, across roads, and along them. Confronting "those small things" which began to reappear in my faculty of memory. Oh I forgot that we went with my older sister as well :P. It's vivid now, how we sang the songs we had been taught in our kindergarten school whilst striding hand in hand in the night, lighted with neon lamps and moon, for sure. How my sister tickled me, I tickled her back and my mother scolded us for playing near the road. Gosh, those tear-summoning moments :'|

When we arrived, I think I was the fastest boy who ran towards the stationery section, in the upper level of the two storey supermarket. My mother's grip lost instantaneously, and albeit I didn't turn back to even rethink about that act, I could barely sense that my mother was smiling. Running with me was my sister whom was so, so much cuter then. Hahahaha.

We arrived at that said sector. Almost immediately, the bracket my mother carried was filled with all kinds of things. Pencils, pencil box, erasers, sharperners and all. Feeling contented, we moved to another sector to fulfil other things that were the rest in the shopping list. I turned against the stationery tables, made a brief glance and--to my surprise--noticed a thing which I forgot *smiling*. Heh. You guessed it: colouring pencils. I grabbed a box, fumbled its cover. I held it tight in my midget embrace, and ran to my mother. I sighed, I grinned and I pouted, just so mom would permit my last grab. She could only smile.

"Chin!", my mother called me. Reality pulled me back from the flashback. It was drizzling in the hectic street of Tawau, people were busying themselves. I saw my mother who stood at the counter, smiling with countenance that has almost lost its beauty. Though she remains the most beautiful person, you can tell how life has sucked some of her radiance, probably was envious towards her. But that smile... that smile insist to remain the same smile of which I saw when I took a colouring box to her, twelve years ago. I smiled back at her.

I let go the colouring pencil box I was holding so dearly. I thought, it's time to move on and get the heck back to reality, Sven. I got off that stationery section and went to my mother. There's some more phone reviews that need to be done.