Reflection Train ( Part One )

Leaving to metro KL by myself is quite obvious that i am far from my comfort zone...

I never made a conscious decision to go home, it just kind of happened every time. I suppose it was simply that was nowhere else I could go except for my family. I phoned my mum to let her know I was coming back to Ipoh for a couple of days and of course she was thrilled. Since my dad rarely come home, the days had seemed that bit longer to her, the evenings that bit darker, the silences that bit deeper. I knew how she felt. My social life in KL had been generally full of the buzz, hung around church friends, football, teaching and playing music. I love my job here..

..but most nights it ended with halfhearted strum of the guitar, sleepless nights and the suspicion that life was drifting by without notable achievements. It was harder for Mum, of course. She'd stayed on in the house, and which my brothers - Jacky, Kelvin and I had grown up. The 'Ria' Garden was a remarkable place on an remarkable estate, Bercham Town, not to mention the fantastic neighborhood and food that will leave you drooling.

That my old mate Joshua Lui still lived on First Garden is certainty. And not only because I'd phoned him before coming home to make sure there'd be at least someone I could go for a pint with whilst I pondered and rest from a hectic KL life. That Joshua still lived in the same house was a certainty because he was conceivably the most bone idle waster ever to drag himself to the working world. Since he chose to reject his daily job, in favour of a thus far longer standing devotion to idleness. Except for practicing the guitar, of course, but then we'd all done that. On reflection, perhaps Joshua wasn't the ideal sounding board for my ponderings and relaxing trip after all, as he had little discernible future of his own. Or so I thought. (Just kiddin' homie if you are reading this =p)

When I put my hand on the familiar paint decaying blue gate of my house and pushed, it was as if I was sixteen again, coming in from school. The gate dangling even more precariously than I'd remembered from the corroding hinges that my DIY-'ambitious' father somehow never got round to looking at, scraped once more, creating the tell-tale grind that let her know I'd arrived. The dim glow of the hall light spread into gloaming, revealing the stout, beaming presence of my mum, in all her knitwear glory.

'Timmy, look at the state of you! come here and let's get you inside and sorted out."

To Be Continue...