I have this old, sadly broken box in my special-stuff-drawer. It's red and heart-shaped, with a long crack running down the centre of the lid, marking where someone had once pushed it too hard. If you tried to ease it open and get inside, it'd separate into three pieces, so I never kept anything inside it. It’s just a lonely, empty, little heart. Loved once, but shoved in the corner to collect dust after it snapped.
I could just throw it out, but I think, one day, I'm going to pull it out from its dusty corner and perform some loving surgery. Find a little glue and sew the shattered shards tenderly back together. Fuse those fragments into something complete, so it can safely embrace valuables again.
Do you know any hearts that need mending?
Friday, October 30, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Spoiled Memories
Do you have a special place in your childhood memory? A moment close to your heart that radiated warm and fuzzy feelings?
Mine was a food hall in the city. We used to go there for dinner on special nights, with the quiet chatter and scraping forks mixing with the serene night air. We'd buy our favourite Chinese dishes and quickly slather our chicken chunks with sauce so the slower guys had to eat theirs dry. We'd play in the little playground after tea, while the oldies watched fish swim lazily around the tranquil pool.
I visited my hallowed recently. We parked at the back car park, stepped over the dirty puddles and empty coke cans to be greeted with a cracked glass door, mended with silver duct tape. Odd. I hadn't remembered that bit. Inside, the food stalls lined the walls, their paint faded, their servers smiling like it was a funeral and their sign banners screaming R.I.P.
Sickened, we bought the traditional Chinese platter. The lady served our food, her mouth like curved like an unlucky horseshoe, while her hands dolefully doled out. We handed over our money, and she handed over the food with a my-life-is-over-take-your-food-you-miserable-sucker expression.
Instead of the glittering lights adding mood to the meal, the glarey fluorescence tubes lit up our plates unflattering. The food was good, but not brilliant. The sauce thankfully drowned any flavours that shouldn't be there. The playground was gone, replaced by a area of dull sand. The fishpond was gone, replaced by a dull area of nothing.
This experience put a black cloud on that fond memory. As we left, I felt a part of myself had gone, a part of my childhood innocence stolen. Beware of reliving your golden childhood memories. Over the years, Grandma's passion fruit vine has died, Mum's amazing cupcakes were actually from Coles, and your favourite climbing tree at the local park got torn down to make way for a cold, concrete car park.
Or maybe it was our childish imaginations that turned these little unremarkable pockets of space into the best getaways in the whole wide universe. Either way, think twice about going back.
What's your golden childhood memory?
Mine was a food hall in the city. We used to go there for dinner on special nights, with the quiet chatter and scraping forks mixing with the serene night air. We'd buy our favourite Chinese dishes and quickly slather our chicken chunks with sauce so the slower guys had to eat theirs dry. We'd play in the little playground after tea, while the oldies watched fish swim lazily around the tranquil pool.
I visited my hallowed recently. We parked at the back car park, stepped over the dirty puddles and empty coke cans to be greeted with a cracked glass door, mended with silver duct tape. Odd. I hadn't remembered that bit. Inside, the food stalls lined the walls, their paint faded, their servers smiling like it was a funeral and their sign banners screaming R.I.P.
Sickened, we bought the traditional Chinese platter. The lady served our food, her mouth like curved like an unlucky horseshoe, while her hands dolefully doled out. We handed over our money, and she handed over the food with a my-life-is-over-take-your-food-you-miserable-sucker expression.
Instead of the glittering lights adding mood to the meal, the glarey fluorescence tubes lit up our plates unflattering. The food was good, but not brilliant. The sauce thankfully drowned any flavours that shouldn't be there. The playground was gone, replaced by a area of dull sand. The fishpond was gone, replaced by a dull area of nothing.
This experience put a black cloud on that fond memory. As we left, I felt a part of myself had gone, a part of my childhood innocence stolen. Beware of reliving your golden childhood memories. Over the years, Grandma's passion fruit vine has died, Mum's amazing cupcakes were actually from Coles, and your favourite climbing tree at the local park got torn down to make way for a cold, concrete car park.
Or maybe it was our childish imaginations that turned these little unremarkable pockets of space into the best getaways in the whole wide universe. Either way, think twice about going back.
What's your golden childhood memory?
Saturday, October 3, 2009
"I Feel Great!"
©Andrew Matthews.
This reminded me so much of a recent conversation I had with one of my most awesomest friends.Sometimes, when we're in agonizing pain, we do our uttermost to hide it from everyone. We'll grin, joke, and say, "I'm fine! This broken leg that's seeping blood into the carpet? Nahhhh, feels right as rain. I'm just changing the colour of the flooring to the shade you've always wanted!" But as soon as everyone turns their back, we double over, and try to convince ourselves those bright flashes on the floor are from the broken lights. If someone does notice the quiet sound of our teeth grating and turn around, we'll quickly straighten and slap on our best innocently nonchalant expression.
(Just don't overdo it and lean nonchalantly on the nearest mantelpiece — they usually have fragile items on top... Don't ask me how I know.)
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