Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.” 
― Haruki MurakamiKafka on the Shore

I was never a shy child.You know the annoying neighbor’s kid who walks up to you and asks random questions like “Why is the sky blue” and “would you like to play in my treehouse”.Seemingly harmless at first, until you spot her throwing a tantrum in the supermarket completely oblivious to everyone staring..or maybe that’s exactly what she wants,the attention.Yup,the middle child.I think I’m the typical middle child and I have always been that way.

Speaking my mind came naturally.When I was 6 years old living in Boston,I remember walking into a store and the guy behind the counter said to my Abah ( a Malay term for ‘father’) “cute kid,where’d you kidnap her from?” Abah just smiled and walked in like whatever,but I stood by the door and demanded we leave.So we did.

When we reached home,Abah said tomorrow we’ll go to the playground I liked the best, which just so happened to be five stations away on the T . (this what Boston calls its local trains).




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