(Reality in this present moment feels like a convulated car cable, with sparks of electric fire bursting at intervals.)
Putting that aside, I need to log in the fact that I’ve recently achieved my lifelong dream of bringing my family to London! (Marquee, caps, billboards, fireworks!!)
Pulling off the first overseas family vacation (on the other side of the world) in 20 years is no mean feat, but I can safely breathe now that it was managed brilliantly (if I may say so myself). The list of places we visited could get its own nomination in the Overachievers Hall of Fame, but I am so so glad that my family got to see the wonders of not one, but multiple cities in UK and Europe. The only detterring factor to the whole vacation was that it passed by too quickly - though not without a fair share of drama, quibbles, and typical quirks. Every day brought on a completely new landscape, all breathtaking in their own way, but it meant that we didn’t have much room to digest the whole experience. Multiple car rides, games, vistas after vistas, and a quick but important excursion down memory lane in Cheetham Hill only melded our bonds stronger. Before we all knew it, it was time for everyone to go back (did I mention my parents got to travel business class?!).
I write all this in a slightly blasé way but I know for a fact that it meant the world to everyone. There are small crevices in my heart that were softened seeing my parents sitting front row at the top of the double decker bus, giggling; my brother wandering the wonders of this city alone, exploring East London’s music scene; my sister and her husband taking photos in front of a sparkling Eiffel Tower and running off to Camden food hunts. Mostly it was my Dad cuddling with Mamad, or Mamad sleeping with my Mum, that long car journey back from Brighton with my parents, and just having all of the family sat together around a dining table and eating. I know enough about the world to grasp what an absolute blessing it all was, and I am so grateful to have been able to experience us together, and to show them around my life here, so tangibly. It was, in its own small part, an tiny ode that say Here’s my life in London, everyone, I’m glad you’re a part of it now.
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Two outtakes
i. I’ve an immense appreciation towards the fact that my parents treat me as an adult, in the sense that I am a person with agency and character. That they see me for who I am, for my capabilities, and the personality that I flavour the family. My worth is weighed in both weaknesses and strengths, but given that it’s not marred by pre-conceived notions of the version of me as a child or teenager, I am more than satisfied. They move around me as a 33 year old woman, who is their daughter, who is also their friend, confidant, and someone they can rely on. This thought alone has fulfilled me in the most loved way possible.
ii. Living abroad has carried me so far away from my role as (eldest) daughter and sister. While it comes with its own challenges and frustrations, I find purposeful existence within my familial framework. I am the one who says ‘I’ll Sort it Out’, the one who tells off my younger siblings, the one who drives the car, the one who plans the journey and contribute to a hefty part of the decision making. I am Kak Long. I am Shasha. I am ‘Nanti Shasha marah’. These are aspects of myself that do not get to see the light of day in London, where I am my own sovereign entity, away from my blood-related unconditional-loving kin, who have bore witness to all versions in my lifetime, and require me to step up into my place with them. To play that part again in this side of the world is a thing I’ll miss.
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