Boxing up the memories.

There are some things that I'll never forget this Christmas. For one, it would take some serious memory-erasing to rid myself of that image of my uncle, looking suspiciously drunk, wearing a shoe bag on his head and doing a little gig. Or my mother doing a weird little tease for my aunt, which involved a lot of even weirder booty-shaking. Growing up among my maternal relatives means being dragged through a swamp of boisterousness and too-loud love, but knowing deep down, that you wouldn't swap it for anything in the world.

Before the party officially began - that is, before the arrival of my grandmother and before everyone starts tucking in, properly (more than occasional munching doesn't quite count as 'eating' here) - Suhui took Mingming, her eight year old brother, and I to the Japanese cemetery nearby. About a decade ago, I, with my overactive imagination, would have sooner died (and become a part of the cemetery for eternity, ironically, but it didnt occur to me back then) than voluntarily place myself within any conceivable distance of a cemetery. Each Qingming, I would dread the hike into the columbarium and cemetery, regardless of the kind of jokes the adults cracked to keep spirits (ours) buoyant. But the roles were reversed this time round. My company had an imagination to rival mine, and he, like I did, knew it.

He expotulated at the suggestion and took off. I laughed and ran after him, tackling him into submission. Despite his protests, dear Ming ming was crammed firmly (and rather comically) between the two of us - the human safety barrier promised to him, and marched to the cemetery. Throughout the walk, he talked non-stop, jabbering away about his fear of cemeteries. Conversation was precocious but lighthearted, as we talked about ways he could "master fear" (his words, not mine). But throughout the walk, I made sure he had both his hands held and was always between us, because I knew that was all I had ever wanted in the cemetery vists of my childhood. (But daddy would always walk forward, with me clinging on to his shirt, and mommy no where to be found.)

As we walked out of the cemetery, he told me proudly, "I am not scared now because I have mastered my fear!" (Mastered, he told me, was the word, not conquered, or overcome.) But I knew that the moment he could talk about his fears. I never told anyone about my fear of cemeteries, or ghosts, or the dead - that gripping fear, worse that I had ever known. And I knew, that when he mastered his, he had also mastered mine.

And it was with the courage vested in me by my dear cousin that I tackled today's reunion with my Sec4 class. I was so afraid we wouldn't get along, that our meetings would be silent and empty. But we did, and it was full of laughter and friendliness. (: And I actually am beginning to miss them.