When I was a kid

When I was a kid, about 6–and I say six because I can only recall images and people from that time, being in kindergarten and certain kids I have memory of knowing. I don’t remember before that, I only know what I know from photos.

Well, when I was six, roughly, I remember crying into our floral printed pillows in our living room of our rattan framed chairs.  Nobody really knew.

I don’t know how I found out then, but in my little mind I guess I always thought about the end of life. And somehow if I were to die, I wouldn’t see either one of my parents in heaven and they would suffer in hell, burning, in a horrible place like I saw in a movie once. I don’t know why I assumed myself to go to heaven, but I think seeing my parents arguing so much when I was small, made me think that one of them was going to hell.

I was a kid, yet, those days were rough. They’d just be on the edge almost barely even making it not to let that fragile thread holding their hands from snapping and lashing out all that fury inside. I thank God now, looking back, for every time my dad took a walk or gritted his teeth.

I still love them like how I did, maybe even more now that I’m older. When I was small, it was so easy to show them I loved them. I, used to sleep on my dad’s lap during church, the preaching made no sense to me anyway. I used to be able to be small and cute and lovable to my dad. And I made him a card once, I was so embarrassed and I left it under his door so I didn’t have to give it to him face to face.

My mom used to chase me around the house with the cane. She whacked us until it split into two, and I put it inside my shirt and I became a cockroach. I always gave her such a hard time, she’d complain as soon as my dad got home from work. I loved being my mum’s little puppy, following her wherever she went. And crying like mad and shaking the gate as I cried if she ever left without me.

And I loved playing with my brother and sister. There was just the three of us then, before we grew up. We pretended the bed was a ship and my brother would come in and try to attack us. We’d kick him off, ofcourse.

I used to call my brother MrDolphin, while I pressed the snoopy pop-out height measure thingy on his door.

I stole a 20 cent coin from my sister. Partly because I was jealous she had so many stickers, and she sold them to me so expensive. But I felt so guilty and put it back. That was probably the only thing I’ve ever stolen.

I can’t even read the words properly and my nose has ran to my left cheek. I miss being small. I miss how we were. I hope you always know that I love you. I’m not dying yet, and neither are you, but I’m so glad I will see you even after that happens.

In heaven.

kelly.