Oh! My mother. What would I be without you? Absolutely nothing. She'd dressed me up in peachy pink at one point in time, complete with matching frilly cap. And the cap had a bobbin. A round knitted bobbin that looked eerily like a dyed pingpong ball. Hmmm...I must have been traumatised 'cos up to this day, I hate the colour pink with a passion. And did you know I'd worn a yellow lacey gown as well? With a matching yellow bonnet and yellow mittens? Gah. I was a live human doll, at the mercy of my mam!

My brother had better luck. He wore normal clothes; tees, shorts, pants. But you should have checked out his footwear. Pink sandals. *guffaw* I know girls were recognised to be the female of the species ever since they were delivered by nurses in a hospital and had to be coded with pink but...my brother? I guess he wasn't that lucky after all aye? (He liked the sandals though, until he was in K1 or 2. You'd think he'd complain, judging from the voice of today's younger generation.)

And my mother..my lovely mother. She was so radiant, so healthy, so full of life. Nine years back...a wonderful pictorial memory. So vigorous and exuding vitality, she was the epitome of life. Capable of raising two children in the absence of her husband when he was at work, my mother was also full of charm. So much so that even after having an almost-teenage daughter and a bouncing baby boy, she'd actually received flowers and cards from an admirer. Stalker colleague. Blergh. Believe it. (Or not?)

But...memories remain memories. We can never return to the past. My mother at the present moment is not the mother that she was, nine years ago. Not just externally but in the mind as well.

Oh well. God bless you mam.