The Bicycle

sometimes i wonder what was going through his mind when he decided that i should need a bike. i barely remember the day when we all went to teluk intan to a chinese(well, which shop is not chinese?) bike shop. i don't even remember choosing the blue bike; i guess i had actually chosen it, it couldn't be anybody else who did it because i didn't remember crying having something that people chose for me. a blue mini Ranger bike with a basket in front, and we had it carried by a taxi all the way to our house (usually the taxi stops only alongside the main bagan datoh road which is about 5km from our house).

at first since i didn't know how to properly ride i would push the bike up and down the driveway of our house about 20 times an evening. i remember being a nuisance to the construction workers who was laying cobblestones onto the the driveway and i also remember seeing him watching from the main stairs while talking to the workers' boss. one of the workers even said 'beskal beskal' so that i would get the hell out of his way along with my new bike.

i was never deeply grieved by his death, big part probably because i was too little to be grieved of anything except losing my toys. why did he actually bought me that bike, what was he thinking when he bought that bike? did he even imagined that i was going to grow up like how i am now when he was taking out his money from his pocket? that i was going to be a pathetic self-loathing kind of person who always grieved by the past that will never be erased?

i could lay blame on myself for not trying hard enough to live my best. but i have tried hard enough, a hell lot better that most people of my age who complain all the time of things of a lot less significance, if those could even actually have any parallels in my life; gas prices, boyfriend/girlfriend, job, car loan, the weather, days off, traffic jam, the list goes on. i think i've been doing fantastic, although i could have surely done better on retrospect.

i think i could still find the bike frame; i think i know where it is, somewhere at the back of that house. he never talked much, and i could never remember him talking more than ten words at a time to me. i don't even remember him saying anything to me when he bought that bike for me. if he was still alive, would he actually be proud of me?