#158 :
this is the compo that I had been writing for the whole sunday.
you can read if you want, will appreciate if you!
:D

Topic: Homecoming
Done by Chen Shenghui, 2H03.

He still misses the finger licking-good curry puffs made by his mother the most. The reasons being so are
that the curry puffs are crispy on the outside and soft warming under the thick crust and it always never fail to bring along with it a luxury of love, a love that even he who had graduated from the top university in the world, is still unable to describe it. His family owes a famous shop that sells fried snacks right before their roofs, and the delicious yummy chicken pies and tuna puffs had accompanied him in his lovely childhood. It was one day when the young boy in his mother’s eyes decided to go for burgers and coke instead of curry puffs and homemade barley water.
“Mummy, I got the scholarship!” That was the first thing he spilt when he reached home after his prize
presentation that 19th year, he recalled. His mother wiped her wrinkled hands with the wet cloth and stepped out of the kitchen to welcome him. “Mummy, do you hear me? I got the scholarship! To US!” His mother looked away from him and forcefully put on a weak smile after a few hanging seconds. “That’s good, my dear,” He knew, she was sad. “Aren’t you happy for me?” He asked, obviously for a confirmation, quite reluctant to accept his mother’s nonchalant face. His mother breathed in deeply and held his hands tight. “I am happy, really happy.”
It was urgent that week, as he would be leaving that very Sunday. He remembered, his mother had gone
specially to Bugis and Chinatown, just to buy winter clothes and several dozens of Chinese herbs for him. He remembered, his mother’s eyes when she measured a winter jacket against his chest. Two concentrated, yet wandering shadows in her eyes. “Is this comfortable for you? Or do you want to try others?” He would nod contently, but it just did not put his mother’s heart down. He remembered, his mother had stayed in the Chinese Herb Shop for a long time, in a dilemma of how many packets should she buy so that it would be enough for her little weak child. “Five, eh no, Six,” And she would turn back again and buy one more for she was afraid, she was worried.
That Sunday was his mother’s worst day in her life. Her son was going to leave her for three years, away
from her arms. Early that morning, she woke up at three and starting rolling the dough. He woke up early that day too, but he hid in his room, listening secretly to the kitchen. He heard fast and small footsteps and the opening and closing of the oven door now and then. And he seemed to hear something that dampened his spirit and made him really guilty like a criminal, her weeping in a corner. It was difficult to part at the airport. “Remember to eat the curry puffs on the plane,” his mother whispered in her rough voice. Everyone was crying and waving handkerchiefs, but it was only his mother that remained as calm and smiled peacefully at him when he entered the Departure Hall.
He called home the moment he reached US. When the line got through, his mother picked up in less than a
second. Was she waiting faithfully beside the phone for him? He pondered. First few weeks were heaven to him, large burgers with upsized coke, no more nagging and at last, freedom. Initially, he called home daily, but as time past gradually, it turned weekly to fortnightly, then to monthly and to not even once. He had told his mother that he was busy with schoolwork, and he did not want any calls to disturb him. Now a 22-year old adult, a westernized modern mature man was ready to go home. He left a voicemail for his family giving them a notice about this special day.
On the plane, he started boasting to his schoolmate, about his blissful family, his caring mother, and how
he would be welcomed. Signboards of “Welcome back, Warren!” or a planned ambush in his house that will welcome him with a “Surprise!” when he opened his house door? The more he thought, the more excited he was. He would want to know whether his Big Brother was married, and whether his Second Sister had gotten her lawyer license she mentioned before he left for US, and most importantly, his mother. Would she look as pretty as she was, and was her business still as growing prosperously?
Now, it was him entering the Arrival Hall. He exclaimed loud in his heart, “I am finally back!” and he looked
around. The three-years-ago Changi Airport had changed, to better decorations and furnishing. He dragged his heavy luggage, with presents for everyone, out the hall. His heart was pumping hard and fast, like a lighted colorful firework in his heart. He glanced at the queue of people outside waiting. No signs of his family, nor any signs of “Warren”. He was not down; instead, he became even more eager. They were waiting for him at home!
He flagged for a taxi and boarded it. The driver spotted him in a neat suit and started to admire it from the
rear mirror. Nicely combed hair, a briefcase by the side, a branded watch and polished boots. “Where you from?” The driver spurted in broken English, for his curiosity. “I am a Singaporean. I just came back from further studies in US.” He replied politely in Chinese, however, in a strange American accent. The taxi driver’s eyes popped and nodded vigorously. “Future talent!” The taxi driver commended with his thumb up. He grinned and looked out of the window. Singapore is still his very home, my family is here and I grew here, he thought. The scenery by the Singapore River was familiar yet foreign. The feeling of refreshing his memory of this lovely red dot just galvanizes him.
Soon, he reached Holland Village, and right before his house. He stood in front of the shophouse and
examined it with his heart. The building brought him back to many of his past memories but the building now was older, and started to turn yellowish at the edges. He tugged his luggage to the main entrance of the “The Koh’s Café”. The fences were pulled down and it was locked. He was elated in his heart. His family closed the shop early specially for a welcoming dinner. He scanned up at the banner. Gold words carved in exquisite wood, no change. It was here where he was running about and munching puffs and pies.
It was tough carrying his bags up to the second floor of the building. New slippers were outside the rusty
door frame. He was indeed surprised, because his favourite blue slipper was still outside on the top of the shoe shelves. It was not dusty; It was just as new as that day he left for US. He was ready for the surprise. He bit his lips anxiously and knocked the hollow door with his big strong hands. No answer. He tried again after few seconds. Still no answer. He started to extend his guess. Probably they wanted to make him think that they forgot about this incident and gave him a surprise when he entered the door with his key. Yes, this time, it’ll be correct. He’s pretty sure.
He fumbled among the items in his briefcase silently and took out his key. He carefully inserted his key into
the hole and turned. He saw the house for the first time of the three years. Nothing had changed, the sofa, television, refrigerator, almost everything were still impact. He tiptoed into the house and closed his eyes. No shouting, no cheering, no popping of poppers. He thought this was weird. Did they really forget about this day? He put his briefcase on the sofa and checked against the phone. “One unread voicemail ---- From Warren” He was utterly shocked. No one saw the message sent one week ago. What exactly happened to his family?
He strolled into the kitchen, assuming no one was in the house, still in an unclear head. He was
dumbfounded on what caught his sight. A back view of an old figure sitting on a stool facing the balcony. He breathed loudly as he could not believe what he had seen. The old lady adjusted her body and grabbed hold onto the walking stick beside her. She turned around and swayed it all around. It was her mother! “Who are you?” She screamed at the top of her lungs in Hokkien as she walked aimlessly towards him, hitting hardly the stick onto his wide shoulders. “Mummy! Mummy, it’s me!”
The old lady stopped instantly. She put out her hands and attempted to touch his face. She was blind.
“Mummy, I’m here,” he held his mother’s hands tight and put it against his cheeks. It had become a lot more wrinkled and the old lady started to drop tears like a waterfall. “Son! You are back! You are finally..” Her words were interrupted by another voice. “Old lady, what do you want?” He turned around, and he saw his youngest sister with locked eyes. She had tattoos all over her body and crisped a cigarette in her mouth. “Sister, you…!” His sister quickly dropped her cigarette on the floor and stepped on it. “Third Brother, you are back?”
And so, his Fourth Sister began telling him the happenings from the first day he left till today. His mother
was right beside him, grasping his hands more and more firm. He could not believe this everything. His Big Brother had gone bankrupt and now escaping from loan sharks that came splashing paint on their doors everyday, his Second Sister had been put behind bars after being sued for her lazy and irresponsibility in her lawyer’s job. And even his youngest sister was beginning to turn bad and had dropped school. This homecoming had put him out of the dark after three years. As his younger sister spoke, his mother was weeping secretly again. The previous, because he was leaving, this time, he was finally back.