8790: one thing, many things

If you asked me to name one thing from my childhood which I associate most with being 'home', the above is what it is.

These miles and miles of plantation. All of my fondest childhood memories had been among these stumpy, thorny trees.

Yes, it's kelapa sawit.

I'm a kelapa sawit boy. At least, I was.

I want to be a child again, among the kelapa sawit.

--

I'm a little more nostalgic these days because we have moved into a new house (well, my family had), into ANOTHER kelapa sawit plantation. But.. it's not the same plantation.

There's no durian trees, where we pass by with hope and anticipation everyday during the durian season, looking out of the car as my dad slows down, hoping we'll be the first to spot unclaimed ripe thorny fruits beside the roadpath.

There's no banana trees that I walked by every early morning to take the school bus, where I quickened my pace every time I passed them because it's so dark and I think of those banana ghost stories.

There's no rambutan trees belonging to our neighbours, where we used to throw sticks at trying to get the bunches of rambutan down.

There's no local convenience shop in the kampung nearby, where we always hitch a ride on our dad's motorcycle to in the evening to buy ice cream from.

There's no bridge over the river which we cross everyday to get to our house, where once my brother fell over and was saved only by a metal bar halfway down into the river.

There's no abandoned dusty warehouses which smelled like no one's been there for decades, where we used to explore and jump on, puffing clouds of dust up under our feet.

There's no disused diesel pumps in front of one of these warehouses, which I've always wondered whether still contained any fuel.

There's no that warehouse-turned-badminton court with HUGE 5m tall steel doors which we have to push apart to open to get in and play badminton. And watch the badminton competitions which my dad used to join.

There's no puddle of mud where we once tried to make clay pots from, which was quite a successful attempt albeit them being so tiny to be of any use.

There's no that solitary 2mx1mx1m block of concrete with a locked steel door that I used to think had a monster trapped inside.

There's no that piece of roof tile with a mosquito shaped engraving which I found, thought was a fossil, and left in a secret place, but so secret that I forgot where I put it and was never to see it again.

I'm just hating this sinking feeling I get because we won't be staying at the home where I spent most of my childhood in anymore. And as time flows by, the memories of that home fades ..

I want to keep my childhood memories. Time, please don't take them away :(