If you ask me now, I wouldn't really be able to tell what life was like back in Malaysia.
It's like it was another life altogether. To tell you the truth, the only bits and pieces that I do remember were going to work at uni, and then going to work tutoring the Koreans, and then going home, and then going to sleep... Oh of course there were the occasional nights out, movies, dinner and so on, but they seemed to pale in comparison to the crushing weight of work and responsibility.
And if you were to ask me what I remembered of my son back home, I would say I remember him sleeping when I went to work, and sleeping when I got back from work... but of course there would be the weekends that we would enjoy together, where I would take him to the lake gardens and we would go jogging together with his mother, and we would end the morning with a trip to the local Mamak restaurant, where he would order his favourite items on the menu without fail - roti telur with dhal, and iced Milo... And I thought that that was enough for someone in my situation, with my responsibilities. There didn't seem to be enough time to do much else... Or so the excuse goes...
Until one day his Uncle Bruce comes back from the US bringing with him a miniature American football, and started playing catch with my son... Something I'd never done before... And so the trend would continue, every time Uncle Bruce and Cik Ngah (Sameerah, my sister) visited my parents, Bruce would always play catch with Adel, teaching him the essential skills of ball-handling, or at least as much as you can teach a 3 year-old). It became their thing, and I did not begrudge them of that.
But I think, somewhere in a small corner of my heart, there was a part of me that wished that I could be the one playing ball with my son.. but very quickly another part took over and told me that I didn't have the patience...
I totally agreed... back then... but I told myself that I'd make time, sometime in the future...
Fast-forward a year on, and here I am in New Zealand.
It is a breezy Spring afternoon, and a rubber ball is at my feet. It is cold, and I suddenly realise I am half out of my mind being out in the garden in my shorts at 15 degrees Celsius in the shade. It's not so much the 15 degrees as it is the biting North-westerly wind blowing from the Antarctic.
The ball sways slightly against the wind, and the Bob the Builder motif bobs up and down in a rhythmic motion.
My son is standing five metres away from me, face full of concentration as he prepares to catch the ball that I am about the kick. Suddenly he laughs and giggles, and starts teaching me how to kick the ball.
I smile.
I did manage to keep my promise after all, that I'd make time to play ball with my son...
But now that I think about it, if I had continued what I had been doing back home, that promise would have never been fulfilled.
This PhD has turned out to be a blessing in more ways than one...
Now to get inside out of the cold... What on earth was I thinking wearing those shorts???
Comments
i like this quote.. (",)
life is full of suprises..
i like this quote.. (",)
life is full of suprises..
As for clothing, well everything is relative. Back in Canada, when the first hints of fall start blowing in, everyone bundles up. But when it's winter and spring begins to bloom, on the first barely-nice day you'll see people out in shorts and t-shirts, even though the weather is probably colder than when they'd chucked their sweaters on at the end of the previous summer. Hehe.
Angie - Hahaha! I know what you mean. These Kiwis are a hardy bunch I must say. My jaw dropped when I saw some of them jogging in shorts during the winter!
Jordan - I hear yo bro.. It's good thing I realised how much I was missing out on my son before it was too late.. I know of some parents who totally miss the window of opportunity and never ever get the chance to make amends. And I guess the Canucks are cast from the same die as the Kiwis eh? Except you your winter over there makes winter here seem like a walk in the park..