the vacations I remember...

My grandmother is close to 90 now. Until a few months ago, she was the one visiting all her daughters (my aunts and mom) residing in different towns. I was talking to mom last night over the phone and she told me that grandma cannot travel anymore—it means that it’s a chance for all of us to return the affection and care she has been bestowing all her life. It also means that the little ones at home will not get the goodies from the farm and granary.

There were a few summer vacations when we were sent to spend in the village unaccompanied by our parents. As we packed our stuff two weeks before the date of departure, my grandma would also start storing her wooden boxes with our favourite fruits and nuts. She would go gooseberry picking and would have sweetened snack made out of them by the time we got to the village. She would have decided on the chicken to be cooked for dinner. The spare room cleaned and sun dried in case we refused to sleep with grandpa and her. The best rice would be husked , all the pots and pans would be filled with water just so that we don’t insist on going water fetching. Firewood aplenty to keep the kitchen warm. Grandpa would have started making baskets with cane to send mom some.

It was our time of unending adventure—no vacation would end without a walk( an hour) to the paddy field—fetching water on bamboo pots( despite resistance) picnicking on the farm cottages, feasting on wild berries and village shops. It was also a time when we were admired and cheered for the little fact that we were people from the town. Between my paternal grandparents and my maternal’s is a 500 meter yard stretch of walk way and on both sides are houses. As we walked up and down, we would be cheered by the village boys. Those walk ways felt like ramps and us like models.

She would tell us stories about my parents, mostly about my dad and how he befriended my grandparents before he even asked my mom on a date. The folktales I listened in wonder—magical stories which I thought were true—recounts of Army torture, starvation, grouping—their survival stories in the jungles. Many many more.

My grandma made sure she was by the bedside when her 18 grandchildren were born.

She never went to school but she learned to read the bible and sing hymns. She sang songs in the church with her group until a few years ago coz she started singing off tune.

The last time I met my grandma was 2 years ago, I speak to her occasionally but she doesn’t enjoy phone talks so there is hardly any bonding time. ..I don’t know how long she’ll live but I don’t know when I can see her. For now, I’ll have to get by with the memories. But I hope and pray that I’ll get a chance to thank her for making me feel like her favourite grandchild (all 18 of us do) and for making my vacations memorable Coz the only vacations I remember are the ones I spent with her.

Today, I just long to talk to friends I haven't been in touch with. Friends I've loved, laughed and cried--but they seem so far away now that I wonder if they'd feel the same way as they used to feel. There were a few of them that I had threated losing--I wanted to keep them for life..you know, just a call away--but my phone was too busy for them and they are gone now. I miss them and I wish i had tried harder to keep them near.

I've been thinking a lot about how much I should share on this blog--will it be ok to tell things that are personal and close to my heart? I remember, when I started out it was more an experiment with blogosphere--I made up stories, learned to haiku, played along meme's quizes and so on. But now that I know what the fuss is about --(blogger turned 10 this year btw) albeit a little late, what's next? How far is too far? I'm not sure. Perhaps I'd just go back to making up stories...if nothing else, to maintian the continuity.

Panda, you'll continue to be my favourite character.

Panda has been waiting for a very long time to read something that would make him fall in love with me all over again--like the way it did the first time. And since I think I'm going to need time to get on the track, the 'falling in love all over again' has to wait. When I came back to the blog a couple of days back, it took me sometime to make the connection with it. Sadly. So much has happened over the past few months that I won't know where to start from...even if I wanted to. No panda, it isn't an excuse--I shall write surely. That being my first vow.

It's been so long since I wrote anything! My fingers are so numbed --I almost want to cry. The thing called 'writers' block doesn't justify my silence. I feel like I've cheated my friends who came back to this blog day after day faithfully only to see the remnants of the decayed words.

I want to write. Not just here but a lot more. I want to tell the stories that only I can tell. I want to feel the joy--the kind that only writing can give.