Feeling kind of melancholic lately. My grandma’s old house has been sold. The house that my relatives and i have gathered for every Chinese New Year, Christmas, etc, the entire 27 years of my life has been sold. And its fate is doomed… the new owners are going to pull it down and rebuild their dream house. All they wanted was the plot of land the old house was on.
We went back for a last gathering today. I took a lot of photos. The house is no longer pretty… the tiles are stained, there are many cracks on the ceiling board & walls… the house is worn.
As i laid on the sofa & looked at the ceiling just now, i wondered if the house will cry for all the memories it holds. The house was built pre-war… circa 1910… and a caucasian family used to live there before my grandfather bought the house. I know the house held many wonderful memories for that family because the previous mistress of the house visited the house a few times when she came back to Singapore. (She has gone back to England to stay). She even wrote us a postcard saying that she loved the old house.
The house has also seen 4 generations of my family. I really wished the older generation wouldn’t sell it… how can anyone sell memories away? But the deed has been done and the title will transfer end of this month.
Life i guess, is made up of cherished memories. It just makes me really sad when these memories increase… because it means more good times have ended.
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