No more adventures
Up and down the stairs, no more games
Played in the dimly lit rooms. No more hiding
In Goong's bed, covered in
The familiar warmth of
Sheepskin, avoiding
The dishes, or cooking
Dinner.
No more hiding in the dark room
Blindly searching for leftover
Candy.
No more gazing in
Awe, looking up at the
Art plastered on every
Surface. No more reaching up
On tiptoes to peek
Inside the
Myriad of boxes, hoping to
Find a new favourite
Treasure, or toy. No more joyfully
Running down the stairs
Each morning, searching for the
Wooden box, where gifts
Are surely waiting.
No more hiding in the
Laundry-house, eating dinner,
Hoping the news wouldn't be
Too loud.
No more dinners. No more
Jelly for dessert at lunch-
With cream and
Ice cream. No more smells of Goong's
Cooking, of Nana's
Baking.
No more glass jars filled
With snacks, tantalisingly out of
Reach. No more tiny kitchen, no more
Squeezing past others to get to
The laundry, no more ducking
To avoid
Being hit in the head by
Low-hanging
Cupboards.
No more baths. No more baths, watching
The mirror fog up, trying to paint
Pictures on the tiles with bubbles.
No more late nights, listening to
Cds, up until.... who knows when.
No more bedtime stories, sitting with Nana
On my little bed, pointing out absurd
Creatures, from within the pages
Of Goong's many, many
Books.
No more opening the front door, to the drone
Of the tv, always on the news, always in
Chinese. No more listening
To goong's wild theories
Of how China, and therefore our
Ancestors, conquered the world
First.
No more scrambling
Up and
Down the slippery
Steps leading to the goldfish
Pond. No more peering in
Cautiously, scared of falling.
No more collecting
Pond water to make
'Potions' with, no more standing underneath
The trees as the last
Leaves
Fall.
No more searching for toadstools
In my gumboots, hearing the squelch of mud
Beneath my feet. No more chasing my brother
Through the bamboo, no more getting stuck inside
The bamboo.
No more flicking through
National Geographics, piled high in bookshelves
Next to the tv.
No more signatures
In the book, no more arguments over who would
Sign on behalf of all of us.
No more stamp albums, pages and pages of
First day covers, still in their packets. No more delving
Deep inside the bamboo duck, greedily pulling handfuls and
Handfuls of stamps out, dutifully sifting
Through them, looking for
Ones from places far away, with beautiful designs.
No more piles of items
Sitting on the counter- a magazine for Mum,
A book for me, food, so much
Food, all made with
Love.
No more door frame
Documenting our heights. No more
Comparisons between Mum and I, no more
Standing straight, trying to be the tallest
Without going onto our
Toes.
No more stethoscope
Hanging up in the wardrobe. No more playing
Doctors and dentists, no more notebooks filled
With Nana's script, outlining what each and every
Bear had come in for.
No more art. No more sitting upstairs, looking out over the
Indoor garden, drawing mixed up
Creatures. No more proudly showing Goong my work
And watching as he made copies of them, hanging them up next to
Hundreds of other 'masterpieces'.
No more cards, adorned with our faces
From every age, from babies to now. No more
Pictures taken outside, on the grass, the bamboo
A backdrop behind us, making it seem like
We weren't really in New Zealand, but back
Home in China, in our home village.
No more huddling
next to the heater on cold days, keeping warm while sharing
Stories. No more running around with bowls and
Buckets, trying to catch every
Last
Leak.
No more reclining in the giant leather
Chairs, no more spinning the lazy susan
With our bare feet. No more games of
'The floor is lava', no more hastily hopping from cushion
To cushion. No more scrambling up on the
Rocking chair, no more balancing on it, trying our best not to
Fall.
This place
Where I spent so much
Of my childhood, will soon be
No more.
~july 2018
