I snuck into Miss ChuLi’s house knowing that she has a
living breathing CCTV, a fatal mistake I admit. Tae bellowed a meow so
alarmingly that it turned heads. Yes, heads belonging to three students and two
old wise ladies. Heaving a sigh, I straddled to the door, cursing at the cat
underneath the Proton Wira.
“Yvonne!!” My great grandma cried as she gingerly removed
the padlock, and then briskly trotting over to give a bear hug. “Tae, you
remember Yvon-von sean-sean, don’t you? Clever girl.”
“Too clever…she should appear in one of those talent shows.”
The cat sure didn’t change much, unless we’re talking about physique wise. I’d
say Tae was doing as well as I did on food consumption. And like how the ice
preserved the mammoth, Miss ChuLi didn’t change all that much either, except for
a new house and her sister, Karen is staying with her here on out. There were
certainly many things we need to catch up on. But the presence of three high
school students was discouraging to say the least, so I remained seated after
accepting the offer of chamomile tea.
“This is my best English student.”
“Aiyah, Miss ChuLi, you’re doing this again.” Nodding lightly
at them, not wanting to show off or make the impression that I am doing so. One
of them, a form four boy, Mandarin (can’t remember his name), came up to me for
a handshake and I neatly return the favor with a grin. He whispered a soft
“Thank you for the postcard,” and I knew he was talking about the Wyoming
Native Red Indian postcard I sent a batch over summer last year for Miss ChuLi
and her students. Apparently, there is still hope for us Malaysians when it
comes to being polite and grateful.
“He’s going to take over your spot in a year or so.” Miss
ChuLi closed the door after the trio walked out at 7.30pm. I flapped my right
hand, signaling “impossible lah” and she laughed, while asking me about life
in general.
“If it helps, I feel as though I’m lost in the middle of the
Amazon forest, tired and hopeless. But I will keep walking because I want to
survive.”
She gave me a concerned look and then proceeded to reassure me
that I “will do great things.”
I didn’t know why but I felt a sting in the eyes, as if
someone had stuck half an onion in them. Maybe I am just afraid of the future,
one that is unknown and difficult, but it is what it is.
“If it helps,” she says, “write me letters. The last couple
from the US had been interesting.”
Sure will,
Vonnie S.
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