Memory is a bitch

I don't know why but I think I should write this down. I had always believe that I love my own family, well, I do, but I also hurt them in a way that I've no idea how, but things just happen. I been thinking a lot lately, mostly were flashbacks, no idea why.

When I was a kid, no more than six for sure, I used to have this favorite small, fluffy panda plush toy, I was literally obsessed with it. No idea who gave it to me, but it was a gift, way too young to remember details. We were living in the apartment that time, just me and elder brother; on working days we stay over at nanny's place, she was a kind lady, I like her. Mum would get us home every evening, no matter how busy or how late, she never leave us overnight at nanny's place. As for weekends, we stay at home, or sometimes mum would take us out to different places, groceries shopping or just a simple picnic at nearby parks. I once saw from the balcony, a neighbor threw their cat off from their balcony. Did I mention we were on the second floor? The cat, as far as I can remember, did landed and ran off, so I assumed it was okay.

I once left my school bag in the school bus, lucky nanny noticed and went on to take it down before the bus driver actually drove off with my bag, with my favorite little panda in it. What happened to the panda? It went missing one day, I remember I cried so badly.

I remember, and I can still feel the fear, now with some anger too, whenever dad came home. It was and still a " drop by" to me, since we, or for me at least, I get used to just having mum, or just dad at one occasion, it still feel strange to have them both around at the same time at home. Not that I hate him, I just don't feel that comfortable with him around because as far as my memory serve, whenever he showed up at home, for some strange reason both of them would quarrel. I was obviously not sure what I felt that time, maybe it was more than just fear, and I remember those soft but protecting hugs I would get from my elder brother, despite him being just a year older than me, and I was pretty sure he too, was scared.

I remember that evening dad took us, I was six, started my pre- school with elder brother in standard one if I'm not mistaken. I remembered those quarrels, and dad told us to pack our clothes and bring our favorite toys, I remembered dad pulled us out from home, mum's eyes were red, I can't remember what I did but dad grabbed me and pulled elder brother's hand along, I tried to grab hold of mum and then the grill door., and the long handles along the apartment staircase, rows of mail boxes, all the way to the car park.

We were in dad's car, back seat, I saw mum, I cried, screamed, wanted her to come get us. I didn't know what was going on but I was scared like shit. Dad drove off, with us in backseat, elder brother was sobbing but he still hold me tight, while I still look out from the back of the car crying. Well, at least I knew I still have my brother with me.

I stayed and grew up with grandparents in those 14 years. First thing I actually learnt during my stay there was to sugar coat words before those adults, and speak only the necessary. It really spared me from a lot of beatings, compared to elder brother. 

Anyway, those were like 17 years ago. I can barely remember anything with my primary school life, or that one year of pre school in hometown. The only thing I can recall is I was damn scared on the first week in pre- school, and I would tugged and hold on tight to grandpa like a koala bear hugging a tree and cry if anyone ever try to get me off him. LOL! I can barely remember anything back in those days on normal circumstances, and I have no idea why these shits just hit me hard in my mind right now. Usually it only happens in my dreams, nightmares, waking me up from my sleep, and then forgotten.