3 - fluffy, feline friend

Her name was Si Putih.

Si Putih wasn’t my average feline friend. 

She was my first fluffy, feline friend. 

I was 3 years old when we crossed paths. 

Si Putih made her home in the attic of my old house. 

Now, don't picture a fancy attic;

it was more like a storage space tucked right above the laundry room.

One day, Ayah called out excitedly from the laundry room.

“Teteh! Ena! Come here!”

We rushed over to find him perched on a bamboo ladder.

“In this attic is a litter of kittens! And there is the cat mom, too!”

Ayah invited me to go upstairs.

Teteh immediately reclined his offer, leaving me alone under that intimidating ladder.

I stood still there.

“Ena! You will like them! Ayah yakin Ena pasti suka!”

Yes I know I like cats. But that rickety bamboo ladder?

Just by looking at it, I knew it was so unsafe it could kill people.

It was like a stairway to heaven a.k.a alam barzah. No kidding. 

But the super adorable meows from those newborn kittens made me so curious!

I couldn’t resist. 

With cautious steps & Ayah's help, I climbed that ladder. 

And there, at the top, I was greeted by a cluster of pure white kittens and their white mom.

It really was a stairway to heaven. No kidding!

Now the word heaven here referred to earthly paradise!

From that moment on, my family decided that Si Putih and her precious babies would call the attic their home (while I called them all MINE!!!)

Si Putih was a domestic cat.

Her fur was entirely snowy-white, except for her tail.

She had a black dot on her tail.

I can't quite recall the color of her eyes, but in my distant memory, they were blue.

I remember I used to invite Si Putih to come into my house.

She would often get stuck in the backyard, near the buckets in the laundry room.

Whenever Si Putih was already inside the house, I always begged Mama to feed her.

Back then, my knowledge about cats’ nutrition was limited...

I thought chicken bones were her food. 

Poor Si Putih.

---

One day, disaster struck.

Si Putih disappeared.

She didn’t return home for days.

I remember crying my eyes out like a river. 

Fast forward to my teenage years, my parents still remember this moment and they said,

“When Si Putih was missing, you refused to eat.

You said you would eat only if Si Putih came home and ate with you.”

My parents said that I rarely cried as a kid, so that moment remains etched in their memory. 

But alhamdulillah, a few days later, Si Putih came back home!!!

I was overjoyed!

I immediately told Ayah that we had to bring Si Putih to our new house. 

Ayah & Mama, mindful of my recent heartache, agreed right away.

On the moving day,

Ayah had to make several trips to transport our belongings.

Ayah's car was so small. It was an old Volkswagen Beetle, black in color. 

The distance between my old and new house was about 4 kilometers.

I remember the moment when our old house began to feel emptier as we packed our things.

It started to give me some uncomfortable feelings.

Ayah told me, "Na, I'll take Si Putih with me now. But let the kittens stay in the attic.

We'll bring one cat only."

I agreed. I had no special connection with those kittens anyway. 

That afternoon, Ayah packed some stuff and drove the car with Si Putih. 

But, he soon returned with everything still in the car, including Si Putih.

He sighed, "Na, Si Putih can't sit still in the car. What should we do? I guess we can't bring her.

How about if we let her stay here with her kittens?"

I was speechless...

Too sad to say anything. 

But then, Ayah changed his mind once more,

"Or how about if you come with me first? So that you’d know she can't sit still in the car..."

I smiled again and shouted, “IYA! ENA MAU!”

I got into the car, settling in the back seat.

Ayah placed Si Putih on my lap.

Off we went to the new house. 

And to my surprise, Si Putih remained calm throughout the ride.

As we made our way to the new house, Ayah couldn't help but keep looking at the rear-view mirror.

He kept laughing, "How is this possible??? Earlier when Si Putih was just with me, she couldn't sit still, she was jumping all around.

But now, with you???? She's very calm! Emang bener Si Putih cuma nurutnya sama Ena aja ya. Berarti dia tau siapa yang sering kasih dia makan."

I felt so happy knowing that Si Putih was truly meant to be my cat.

One core memory was unlocked. It was yellow.

Our new house was way smaller than the old rented house, but it sat right next to my grandma's house, making it more special.

On our first night in the new house, my big sister and I still slept with our parents.

But I couldn't fall asleep & was overwhelmed with stress.

It wasn't until 2 am that I was finally in tears…

I sobbed, "Ayah... Ena mau pulang. Ayo kita pulang, Yah."

Ayah woke up instantly & replied, "Na, this is our new home."

I persisted, "No, it's not. I wanna go home..."

Ayah gently explained, "This is our home, Na. The old house belonged to someone else.

We were just renting it. Now we're gonna live here forever."

Ayah's words didn't calm me down. They added to my worry instead. 

It turned out that my sadness arrived a little later than everyone else's.

While others wept earlier this morning during the farewell with the neighbors and the house itself,

my tears didn't flow until the quiet of the night. 

I kept thinking about my old house. 

But eventually, exhaustion took over. I fell asleep.

The next day, I introduced Si Putih to my cousins who lived in my grandma's house.

They fell in love with her instantly!

They introduced me to their cat, too. I forgot the cat’s name. 

But we always had a playdate together with our cats. 

Unfortunately, my uncle (my mom’s little brother) who lived in my grandma’s house didn’t like cats.

He scolded us every time we played with our cats in Rumah Nenek.

He said, "One day I will throw those cats away!"

I was so angry with him. I told Mama that he shouldn't have said that. 

That 'one day' came in one afternoon.

I just returned home from kindergarten, only to find Si Putih missing.

I cried and yelled and screamed, and convinced that she couldn't have vanished on her own. 

Someone must have thrown her away. 

And Mama said I was right:

my uncle threw Si Putih away. 

I threw a tantrum.

I wished I could throw something else upon him.

Something bigger.

Something more terrifying.

Something that could scare him and keep his hands off my cat.

But I could only throw a tantrum.

One core memory was unlocked. It was blue.

I knew for real that my anger was just a surface emotion.

My anger concealed a collection of deeper feelings: disappointment, sadness, betrayal, vulnerability, fear. 

Yes, fear.

Now that I’m already an adult, I know that some adults want some kids to fear them.

And I was indeed so afraid of my uncle because he was taller, older, and way more powerful than my 3-year-old self.

Since he threw away Si Putih (& my cousin's cat, too), I kept my distance from him.

His presence always reminded me of Si Putih’s absence.

But one day (July 7),

literally one day after my birthday (July 6),

I decided to forgive him................... on the day he passed away (July 7, 2021)

roughly 25 years after he threw my cat away.

Maybe it's safe now to call it closure. 

2 - first fragment of memory

Being an aunt,

I've had the privilege to witness the gentle love my parents shower upon my nephew, Aufaa.

Their devotion as grandparents knows no bounds.

They’ve been all in with Aufaa since he popped into this world. 

Every other day, my mom washes and dries his teeny tiny clothes under the sun, ensuring all his clothes are clean and crisp.

Meanwhile, my dad is always available to create homemade toys & mend the broken ones.

When Aufaa refuses to eat, they would act like silly circuses... doing whatever it takes to soothe Aufaa's cries.

Most importantly, they are willing to listen to my sister and me, as we share our fresh perspectives on raising children.

Last August, Aufaa just turned 2 years old. 

And my parents’ dedication to being grandparents continues up until today.

Whenever I see my parents taking care of Aufaa, I can't help but wonder,

"Was this how they used to care for me when I was little?"

If I were to dig deep into my memories and recall my very first moment in this world, I have one distinct memory.

My first memory of being alive dates back to when I was 2 years old, likely around 1995.

I can say this with confidence because:

- I remember at that moment my sister hadn't started kindergarten yet, making her just 3 years old.

- We were all still living in our old house. We moved to the new house when my sis was 4 & I was 3.

- So yeah, no shit Sherlock, it all leads to the fact that I was indeed 2 years old during that memory.

At that time, I was the same age as Aufaa today.

I can vividly recall this one scene.

It was, as mentioned earlier, likely around 1995. 

The setting took place in our old house. 

The TV was on. 

Mama, Teteh (my big sis), and I were seated around the TV but none of us was actually watching it. 

We were busy talking to each other. 

I was sipping Milo milk from my red glass, while Teteh was in tears because she wanted to drink the milk from her baby bottle. 

Mama didn't let her do so... Instead, she suggested that Teteh needed to learn from me,

“Look at Ena. She could drink it from a glass. You could, too.”

......which only resulted in her cries growing louder. 

And that was when my dad returned home from work. 

When my dad opened the door, I remember I stopped drinking, placed my glass on the floor, smiled, and rushed over to my dad,

while screaming, “AYAHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

My sister did the same, behind me (of course), as she needed extra time to wipe her tears away.

My sister and I would always eagerly greet Ayah at the doorstep every time he returned home.

It was our thing. 

It was our ritual.

It was our special routine.

Perhaps, the reason why this remains my earliest memory is because it had been my daily tradition.

We would envelop Ayah in hugs and our high-pitched voices would echo his name nonstop.  

Every single night.

We never missed it.

(Later, we stopped doing that only because Ayah had retired in 2013.)

Ayah's homecomings were always filled with surprises,

he always brought something home, like a token of affection.

Sometimes it was a handful of new toys purchased from some pedagang asongan on the trains.

Sometimes he just brought a pen with multiple colors that he stole from his office (which I loved so much!!!).

Other times, he bought some men’s tools for himself,

or a bag of pears/avocados for Mama,

or a box of martabak keju,

or a hand of bananas, 

or just his bare hands. 

His hands alone were, to me, precious.

It wasn't until my 20s that I realized Ayah's thoughtful gestures had shaped my Love Language. 

Yes. My love language is Gift. 

Whenever I recall this very first memory of mine, tears of joy are hanging in my eyes.  

I cannot believe that my oldest core memory was so ordinary. 

It was so simple. 

It was never about the fancy toys I dreamed of having as a child. No.

It was never about us having a staycation in a 5-star hotel near the beach. No.

My core memory lies when my family was just living in a small rented house in a suburban city. 

We were just at home that one evening in 1995;

Ayah was 37 years old.

Mama was 33 years old.

Teteh was 3 years old.

I was 2 years old.

Ayah, Mama, Teteh, and Ena.

Just the four of us. Just the right amount of love.

Perfectly ordinary. 

But we were over the moon with happiness.

It was right there.

Happiness was clearly right there… in our shared togetherness.

Nothing more, nothing less. 

“So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?”