I read this in a friend’s blog…Althought I don’t share the memory, she triggered the right emotions…thought i’d share it with you guys…(i edited the formatting a little to increase readability…just a little)

the other day, my bro & i went there to look at it for the last time. i took the camera, thinking i’d have plenty of pictures to take but i surprised myself. i couldn’t seem to find the perfect angle for the perfect shot. actually, there was no shot to begin with. the place had become so different from five, six years (or was it seven?) who could remember how long it’d been?

i made my way up the spiral stairs, to the room that used to house this cool bed set that came with a table, shelves & a flight of stairs (that had secret drawer compartments) leading to the bed. the room has this zig-zag glass partition where we (my siblings & cousins) would lay out layers after layers of blankets, pile up the pillows and then seal off the entrance with a mattress. then we’d talk, laugh & have supper in it till one by one, we’d start dozing off. sometimes waking up to find someone’s hand or leg sprawled across yours hahah.

weekends were mostly spent there - saturdays were always play-days, where we’d have the luxury of swimming, playing table tennis, shooting some hoops (not me though cos i’ve had a phobia of basketballs since i don’t know when) before adjourning for piping hot home-cooked lunch. i used to play detective with my pretend kit, filled with powder (for fingerprints), threads, a notebook & a pen. i’d scout the garage for clues, then go around the bushes, confident that i’d find something substantial. i remember distinctly how our sundays were always dreadful cos it meant homework. i remember playing tekkan, street fighter, crash bandicoot & the likes in our trusty ps 2. all that, and more. but they’re gone now, along with the house. you know, i did my first split there because i was running out from the kitchen, oblivious to the slipperly floor that had just been mopped. and woila! a perfect split. i had trouble getting up really. i stood there, at that moment, wishing so hard that i could take a video of it all. or at least a picture of the happy & sad times. i found it hard to fit in, to you know, find that sense of familiarity beneath all the washed & cracked walls, and the vacant rooms.

i guess, that’s what closure is all about.

I guess closure comes in many forms…what was to be a pictorial was captured best with words…