Still fresh.

While I'm in a melancholic mood, here are some memories still vivid in my mind. I can still smell the smells, taste the tastes and feel what I felt.

My third birthday. The furtherst memory I can recall. I am running around my house, sweating buckets. I jump on the wooden coffee table we threw away a few years ago. On it is a Sarawakian vase filled with pussywillow. I pluck off one silky little bud, knowing very well I shouldn't. Then I go stuff my face in cake, celebrating my little secret.

I am almost 4. Mom is very pregnant with my brother. I lie on her big tummy on the big bed in my granny's room, wondering when he'll come out.

A poolside birthday party at the Equatorial Hotel in KL. Not my party but the son of my father's friend. All the kids are in swimwear, splashing about. I have none. But I jump into the pool anyway. In MY birthday suit. Wishing that those cool inflated toys are mine.

First day of kindergarten. I couldn't wait to go. On the school bus, my neighbour Rina Sapuiddin (I called her Rina Sepuluh for some weird reason) sits next to me. The bus picks up John Cheah (He who would soon be my classmate every year until Form 5) and his mother. He is bawling his eyes out as she carries him. This goes on for over a month.

At a night market and I'm about 7. Mom is buying apples. I see some bruised ones and my itchy fingers start pressing on the soft dents. The fruit uncle scolds me. I seek comfort in freshly pressed sugar cane juice.

One afternoon in primary school, I have another chilling encounter with the witch. She has long black hair, a hooked nose and an evil smirk. And she's Puan N, my Standard 2 class teacher. I left my toothpicks (bundled up to teach us how to count in tens) at home that day, so she pinches and smacks me and makes me stand at the back of class. A friend with a tummy upset also gets pinched for not doing her homework. Nope, she's not very nice at all (I saw her again ten years later. She was already old, and the cruel glint in her eyes faded. I forgave but never forgot.)

I'm playing at a laterite field near my house, next to SJMC ( people have since built houses on that piece of land). Toy cars and transformers, with the boys, Lau Wei Chun and John. I also play masak-masak with my neighbour, Toh Shia Jade. My hamster is often the unwilling wriggling first course. I wonder where she is now (Jade, not the hamster).

I am at PE class, in Standard 4. Puan R attempts to teach us a pummel horse-like exercise. Without pummel horse equipment. And in its place, two skinny little boys with barely enough strength to hold up a big kid like me. The reluctant gymnast jumps. The boys fall down in a heap. And I fall down. Hard. I break two bones above my wrist and my hand hangs limply 2 inches above the joint. I end up in the hospital for a few days, where a sweet Malay girl my age from the next room (scheduled for ear surgery) feeds me grapes. If I can only remember her name...

It's early in the morning. I am swimming in the pool with Leeanne, my best friend. We are 12 and raging with pubescent hormones. Our coach is a mega-hottie, with chlorine-bleached hair, tan tout physique and white trunks that leave nothing to the imagination. He makes us do our laps every week, tempting us with McDonalds at the end of the session. Yummy! (well, the Big, uhm, Mac and fries, of course :p)

I am singing Somewhere Out There with this really cute and funny boy at an Interact Club concert. After our song, or maybe during, I don't know, we fall in love. My first sweetheart at 15. We break up 2 years later, as teenage romances often do. (Now, 12 years later, he's engaged to a girl he met at university.)

I am on a beach. Drunk like anything. I see stars. Literally. Dusting the sky like sugar on doughnuts. The waves are crashing like drums. Li Yen, Wai Yee and my college buddies are lying on the sand. And we are singing into Li Yen's voice recorder. A drunken cacophony (which Li Yen still keeps on tape in her car). I remember tasting the sea on my lips. And sputtering sand out of my mouth.

My last day in my uni dormitory. I memorise the wooden beams above my bed. The heater near the door. My wardrobe cupboard in front and my study desk. How I will miss all this. The bed I mess up by eating chocolate in it. Where I spent some cold nights cuddled up with that special person. Where I lost and found something with no regrets. I blast my favourite music like I always do, lie on my bed and wish I could be 21 forever. I open my dorm windows to take a last look at the gum trees outside. I breathe in the scented crisp air, the smell of gum trees I love. And then I say goodbye to the annoying kookaburra who wakes me up with a song before sunrise every morning. Diggings G9, I miss you.

I'm leaving Australia. We are silent as we watch the planes take off and land. I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again. It will be a long time before I'll see him again. And things will probably not be the same. I start to cry like I've never cried before and he kisses my tears away, saying how silly I am, that I'll be back soon. They announce the final call, so I let go of his hand and walk towards the gates. I turn around for the last time. I see his eyes red, tears on his face as he forces a smile for me. He mouths and points to himself - SILLY. I remember that day vividly. But I don't remember him anymore.

I'm at the piano on a Friday at Parkroyal Hotel (as I do on Saturdays, moonlighting as a pianist). My colleagues are at Shangri-la, at the Kancil Awards 2000 (an advertising creative award show). My phone, on silent, keeps lighting up. Messages are pouring in. My heart skips. I'm playing my last set, hoping to finish QUICK so I can rush to join them soon. I open my messages. "WHERE ARE YOU??!! WE WON SILVER". And then some. I don't get to go on stage. But I feel on top of the world.

It's November 2001. I'm on my knees at a church retreat in Sabah. They hurt like hell. Hundreds of others are doing the same, adoring the Blessed Sacrament. I'm praying and asking God, "Why am I here?" A voice simply asks "Will you kneel for me?" So I kneel. Not knowing if I imagined it. The pain numbs into insignificance. I don't exactly find answers to my questions. But I feel at peace. I decide to get baptised the following year.

LiYen and I are in Bali, April 2004. We are wearing the sarongs we bought earlier that day with a scarf around our waists as a sash. We meet up with Ngurah, the front desk boy who is taking us to a Balinese temple for their Odalan celebration. His friend arrives, and we both hop on their motorcycles. The night is cool and dark. The ground wet from rain. Our paranoid hearts begin to worry about our safety when we see nothing but lalang (weeds) left and right as the roads are not roads, but trails. We arrive safely at the temple though, and the sights and sounds are quite an experience. We sip tea and share a smoke with Ngurah and a group of his friends. We banter in Bahasa Malaysia/Indonesia and learn some Balinese. Later, Ngurah and his friend take us back to the hotel safely. Reckless, oh so reckless.

It's November 2004. D and I are having tea and shisha one night. He sends me a text message "So will I get to kiss you today?". I look at him, and he looks back with an innocent grin. I ignore him completely and resume our conversation. Later, as we are walking around my neighbourhood and talking, he sends me the same text again. Before I can say anything, he pulls me close gently and kisses me under a bright orange lamp post. I am stunned. Then, we continue talking and walking, like it was a commercial break.