...and the foot steps that I leave behind

Thursday, December 29

marble

the glass
when i am a little, naive innocent girl, aged somewhere less than 10 or 9..
every time i broke one of my mum's glasses set, i'll take some of the broken pieces..
couldn't remember who actually taught me of this first,
but it is what i, my brothers, and my sisters, and my other friends and neighbours of the same age group did;
we buried the glass pieces.
no, nothing 'ritual'...
its just that someone of someone of someone of whom i nor longer remember taught us that,
that was how marble was made. the marbles, those we used to play congkak and jentik-guli and all sort of other games. knowing that 'fact', we, as the always-genius-scientific-wannabe children of course would be tempted to experiment and experience this.
surely when i broke a glass i felt extremely guilty, and scared...some of them are really those beautiful and not those washing powder gift away glasses. but, the semangat to actually made my own guli is far more important. and if the pieces have this colourful corak and flowers and what not, we became even more excited, and started to imagine how our marbles would look like.
the marble
the funny thing is, after 6 months we would try to dig the place where we buried it, in case it has turned into a marble, and as far as i could remember, i never found it. not even the original broken glass. what a frustrated moment. i think, during those years, i have buried or in a smarter words; i have made the attempt to create my own marbles for more than five times. sadly, i have forgotten where was it. might worth checking now.. ^^,

it sounds stupid whenever i remember it again, but actually, i kinda miss it.
i miss those moments.
i miss those years.
i miss the old me.
the young, innocent and so not-guilty me.
the one who accidentally killed her plant for treating it too well, -by letting the plant 'drink' milo in the morning, sirap at noon, tea at evening and sometimes the good-for-growth-milk...
the one who felt terribly sad when that plant died..

children dont tell lies.
because they are too innocent to do that.
thats why at that age, when i picked up the phone. i'll say , "dier kate dier tak ada di rumah"..
cliche'. every kids in the world do that.

i can't go back to those years...
i can't rewind my life no matter how much i want to.
my past is no longer mine.
there's so many things that happened in the past that i want to change, but that chance does not exist in the past...its now.