photo credit: hendrasaputra
I am from a girly laced up balloon dress that gave unbearable itch, from afternoons spent with The Flintstones and Japanese kids series of Megaloman and Voltes V on TV.
I am from the gray painted house fenced by red neatly manicured plants and graveled driveway, a stone throw away from a hidden lake entrance surrounded by tall green grasses rich with dragonflies.
I am from the tall trees that became my hiding place when I got in trouble. Roof top hideaway was the best! Those trees were where I grabbed a green snake and nearly broke a neck from falling down. From mango trees that gave the sweetest melt-in-your mouth treats on hot humid days. Japanese green grass bore witness to many cartwheels and crazy gymnastic moves.
I am from hearty homemade breakfast of soft boiled eggs sprinkled with pepper and trips to the bakery legs flailing on the motorbike, arms tightly wrapped around my father’s waist and the smell of freshly baked bread teased your senses. From weekends at Uncle Jimmy’s house, and dressed up Barbie’s with cousin Imelda, and got measured by Grandma Beth for that special handmade dress.
I am from the tease till you cry days and over 12 hours road trips to the city to meet the dotting Grandparents, uncles and aunts.
From the scary belt of my father to timeouts in the corner with one leg up followed by hugs from protective aunts and “Stop scraping your legs, Missy” said concerned Grandmother over my boyish defiance.
I am from Sunday schools of singing beautiful songs and memorized Bible verses, of huge angels posters painted by my father in our living room later displayed gorgeously in church for Christmases.
I’m from Dutch laden disciplines, from feeling disconnected to the city I was born and more connected to the small towns we called home. From my Grandpa’s delicious fried noodles to the spicy foods caused beads of sweats on the scalp also from Mama’s pumpkin cake baking in the oven.
From the countless trips to the hospital where sick little brother spent countless nights alone with stacks of coloring books and crayons. Mysterious illness doctors failed to explain that magically disappeared once we left town.
I am from different small towns where family friends made of Indonesian and Australians, where East meet West culture were normal. From big windows facing the port where sunrise greeted my mornings. I am a child of many islands from watching Orangutan babies sway freely from one tree to another to the jungle of concretes.
I am a mix of many things, a nomad at heart.