I remember the constant tightness in my left side,
weakness in my fragile small frame,
those part of my life seem so dark and gloomy back then

He would every so often say to me: all you have left of you is
those black eyes peas’ eyes: are you going to make it to seven?
I recalled sitting on the big rock near the front porch in tears,
and watch as my friends in their starchy white shirts
and cut seams skirt headed to Clifton hill primary school
He saw the sad look on my face that morning
“we shall be leaving soon”, he said with a faint smile
I hated our long trips; my little feet would hang over the cross bar

Sometimes, I took turns walking the long stretch of road
exercising my weak legs, before I reach our destination.
My favorite breakfast before our trip was two soft boil eggs,
a slice of bread soak in bay leaves tea with chocolate powder:

I would be literally frozen with fear each time
I visit the doctor’s office: tears would flow;
I hate the weekly section, I held on to my father’s hand for dear life

I can still hear my cousin voice saying to me
You are so lucky not having to go to school
I envied her at that moment in time, I rather to be there in my
little corner of the room, playing with my silly putty or revising my time tables, instead there I was being poke with pine needles

I guess my childhood illness scared my mother to death
because she never tried to hide her feeling toward me
on the other hand, my father saw that distant looks in my eyes
Somehow, he knew I would made the transition to adulthood
Despite what others thought of my situation?

My morning therapy section consist
of building up strength very gradually to my left side:
a simple task like squeezing half of a tennis ball was so difficult for me
I tried as hard as I could each time: just to see that smile on my father’s face
While the doctor would say, one more time, one more time:
Concentration and skill was his aim, mine was to hurry up and go home
Going  back in time to observe ...the past helps