Letter to the Past
Dearest Uncle,
Do you remember the times when I used to toddle to your bed with my arms full because I was holding onto a big thick book full of Sesame Street stories? You would then pat the space beside you and I would then sidle up to you as you open that big tome and start reading to me because you knew how much I adored reading, even though I stumbled over the words. I would listen attentively as you pronounced every single syllable with the clearest of articulation. You would then tell me that if I do not cover my mouth when I yawn, flies will well, fly into my mouth and I actually listened. I loved listening to your voice back then and would come over to you every time I visit, the same old book in my arms. For all I know, you were lonely. Day in, day out, you were confined to that bed. Your only source of entertainment was the telly and the telephone. I enjoyed running to the telly and switching it on for you so that you did not have to use that bamboo pole of yours to prod the switch. I took delight in putting the phone on to ‘speaker mode’ and then pressing the ‘Hold’ button so that I was able to hear the tone that was playing. Was it ‘Greensleeves’? I can’t seem to recall the name even though the tone is still etched in my mind. I know I was an inquisitive child who always prodded the buttons of your bed, wondering what they would do and you were just so patient with me and I took advantage of that fact.
You knew I was a quiet girl. I never did mixed with my cousins. Even if I did, it was just awkward. I have videos as proof. But you, you were there for me and I thank you so much for being there.
It was not until a few months ago -last year I think- that mum told me that you had actually wanted to see me and my sister, Iqrima, grow up. I bawled my eyes out like nobody’s business. You never did get to see Iqrima and I grow up. You never did get to witness the birth of my youngest sister, Diyanah. It is just a shame that you had to go before your time, after spending half of your young life confined to a bed due to an unfortunate motorbiking accident. I think things would be different if you were still here. I would have had someone to run to when thing got bad during my parents’ divorce. I would have someone who would listen to me while I rant about the going ons in my mundane teen-aged life. Mum would have had a brother who would listen to her problems.
Well now, I’m a healthy seventeen year old who was forced to grow up way before her time. Yes, my friends would say something different, about how chirpy I am in class and how… crazy I am at times but that is just only at times. I think too, you know? And it is during this moment of thinking that I get detached from whatever that goes on around me and focus on just that particular thought that is irking me. Just as how detached I am from everything but your voice when you read to me.
In a way, I am still the little girl you used to read the Sesame Street stories to back then. I still tinker around with mechanical stuff. You have no idea how many times my desktop computer has crashed due to my tinkering, neither do you know how I managed to ruin a blender that was in perfect condition (I blame the unfortunate demise of the blender on the potatoes that I was supposed to well… blend). Sometimes, I prod the switch of the telly with the back of a ballpoint pen, reminding myself of how you used your infamous bamboo pole. It is a shame though that I can’t find a phone that plays the exact tone as your phone. Yes, Uncle, I am not one who would forget things easily. I still don’t talk much to my cousins and yes, even if I did, it will still be awkward. I am still the girl you knew back then.
Just so you know, I still keep that Sesame Street book that you keep reading to me. I don’t think I would ever, ever, let it go. I miss you so.
Your ever inquisitive niece,
Atiqah
