Wednesday, August 20, 2008


These few days I have been taking leave to prepare P for his continual assessment.

I have just walked him to school. As we strolled along leisurely with my hand clinging on his little hand tightly lest he might just prance and try to dash across the road. Flashes of the past came back to me. When I was at his age, my mother was a stay-at-home mum - not by choice but due to economic reality.

My parents have a brood of children at 4 - pretty large by today's standard, and a handful to take care of. My dad was an odd-job labourer and toiled hard each day to bring home the bacon. As my mum has no formal education, she could only earn a meagre sum which would be largely wiped out by the childcare costs. Hence, she stayed at home to look after us.

While we led a frugal lifestyle, we have a rich relationship. Everyday, she would prepare a lunchbox for me to bring to school. Rain or shine, we would be walking that same old-familiar route to my primary school. (Both the route and my primary school have however, given way to the rapid modernisation of Singapore). My mother would always be there when I felt down. She would be there to comfort me when I was miserable. She is my pillar of support and strength.

As the leaves from the tree in our path glistened in the golden sun ray, I looked at my boy taking small, little strides in a bid to spend just a little more time with mummy. The same scene was replayed in my mind. The nostagic feeling warmed my heart. I smiled and was glad to be here for him.

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