Being A Baby Kid And All

Of all the people in Brunei, this little girl here is the one I miss most, my baby sister.

Sweet little thing, she is. Her laughter, staccatos of giggles, the bundles of smiles and that goofy grin she does when she is shy. She's almost a toddler now.

And you know what's scaring me? For the past two years and the next three years I will only be there for a quarter of her early childhood. You know how heartbreaking it was every summer to get her re-acquainted with me? To familiarise herself with me, every fucking year? It's so painful every summer to go back home and see her running away from me as if I was a stranger.

I'm afraid that after five years of being in England (maybe even more) she will be distant to me. I'm so fucking afraid of that. My baby sister, not knowing who I am. Unable to process that I'm her older brother.

This is the little baby girl I used to just watch for hours as she played with her broken toy phones and incomplete Lego pieces. This is the little girl I used to hold in my arms while I danced to the rhythm of music. This is the little girl I used to pick up and hold her just above the sink so she could wash her own hands and her own mouth after she ate. I remember everytime she noticed that I was cooking something she would point to the plates and with just the look on her face made me know that she wanted to sit beside me to eat.

I smiled when she climbed the table to change open the DVD player and put a VCD of Tom & Jerry, the same episode she's already watched thousands of times.

I smiled when she wanted to play with the cats but was too afraid as she grabbed my ankles and hid behind me.

I smiled as she made me push her tricyle around the house, circling tables and rooms as we go along.

I still smile.

Yet I am still fucking afraid.

I won't lose those memories.

But she might.

Being a baby kid and all.

Signing out.

Over and out.