My late grandmother used to sit here every afternoon waiting for Maghrib, and everytime I passed her house I would see her small figure on the swing, gazing out. With her cotton kurung Kedah and whatever few white hair left she had tied up, she raised her wrinkley hand to say she saw me. I sat here with my many cousins when we were kids, plotting our next game when we got together. The swing broke once when me and my cousins got so fat we thought we would never weigh as we were growing up. I sat here with the first boy I fell in love with when I was 13, who was my brother’s best friend. My face almost explode from the blush and I almost peed in my pants.My mother sat here with her sisters when they talked about funny things and then laughed so hard loud like that was the last joke on earth they would hear about. I thought they sounded like hyenas.
Too many memories it witnessed. Now it hardly swings.