Sweet, little cute baby darls. Never had this much fun in awhile, entertaining them bundles of joy, listening to them telling their playtime stories with wide-eyed enthusiasm, cooking for them those favourite egg sandwiches that I now can expertly whip up in a few minutes, seeing how funny they look wearing those oversized tee shirts which I gladly lent, relenting to their chants for that, that awaited Bed">bedtime story to set them off in transit towards Never, Neverland. I'm not sugarcoating this, but to bask in the serenity of witnessing childhood innocence, absolute bliss. As I gaze intently at their faces, the thought of my own childhood nostalgia inadvertantly rushes back. Of times with Dad. Yeah
To think that i'm writing this on paperback in the dark, by the sofa, looking over them, ensuring each one sleeps soundly; don't really mind it at all. Though, I feel a soft spot for two of my cousins. Mamat & Nurul. Broken family at such a young age. Victims of circumstance, and I pity them. And so I resolved to myself to ensure that I could at least try to brighten up their day, playing with them, tickling them till faces turn beetroot red, so that they won't feel gloomy in the absence of parental love. Mamat is cuddly and amazingly smart & bubbly, & I don't want him to ever lose that zest, or become like me when he grows up, an emotional wreck. Come to think of it, it's almost a similar parallel: separated from a particular loved one at six, with dad formerly doting on the son; I hope those memories won't come back to haunt him negatively in the future, as much as my own memories are eating into me now. I can't help it, can I?
Gonna bring them to the playground tomorrow, to play some catch and terrorize those other kids in the neighbourhood.
My cousins are the 'little Mafia', & i'm their Godfather.
I don't even care if that sounds corny.
Signing off,
Rant 1:03 AM of Azmie
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