So much like my own

"Haven't had this for some time now. Not even the last time I was back".

I sat at the round table of our house which would be about 20-years old this year, its top covered with mom's usual collection of tablecloths made of plastic that were durable, looked good and cheap to replace. I leaned sideways to the cool tiled kitchen wall of white under which my late grandmother's portrait photo hung. My brothers and I used to 'ask' her to join us at the table during Reunion Dinners, more to the cultivation of respect to elders rather than actually believing that she was looking down on us from that piece of that enlarged sepia-toned photo. The round table was placed adjacent to the wall to conserve space as the three of us brothers and two parents need not so much room. Unseated square stools made of wood circled the base of the foldable legs, supporting so many buttocks for so many years.

Little Me looked up but kept working at the bowl of fried kuey teow flooded with tasty gravy, venturing no replies as I munched on my own.

"You haven't been home much", he said, pausing a while to chew, the words clear from his full mouth.

"It's not like I could at a whim", I said. The lightly smell of pickled szechuan cabbage simmering in the pot of pork hind bones wafted around the kitchen.

"Of course not. That would be well costly. Not even Mom would think it wise to come home every few months as the tickets, whilst cheap, are still not cheap enough to be bought on a regular basis".

"I know. Though I do miss the comfort of home - who wouldn't - I cherish it more the lesser I return. Like once a year for the New Year's Eve dinner. We always sat down together at least once a year for that meal and I do mean it, it's special when you don't do it every month, what more every week".

"You could at least call more often you know. We might not get to see you hear but at least Mom & Dad knows you're fine, being so far from home all that. You might be in the thirtieth year of your life, bro, but you're always their son and Big Bro's brother".

"Since when did you turn from a little scoundrel to a wise guru?".

"I have always been a little scoundrel or a wise guru. You should hear me detail to Dad the brilliant plan about making money from trading Panini Thundercat stickers with my friends at school".

"Indeed, except that all the capital would from him, not you so that is hardly 'brilliant' ".

He stuck out his tongue and continued with the kueyteow in the bowl, half finished.

I was certain he had no trouble showing me the finger, that little rascal, but perhaps his mood was good that morning. Good thing I outgrew that habit and relied on quick wit instead. Not only do you insult people, done well it even make them laugh. Mom's words about my temper is still fresh in the head as if it was told just yesterday, "Your temper will lose you more than you get".

"Cousin Ringo is coming today", he said, hardly able to keep the excitement hidden. I could see what they would be up to that afternoon now, play acting as ninjas and warriors in the room, trashing it around like little maniacs until it was time to bath and had dinner. Then it would trashing around and playacting again, with breathers in between for reading Gila-Gila. We'd be up all night watching television and talking until the wee hours of the morning. That and Maggie or Indomie in between to satisfy our monstrous appetite. Day after day.

"Have fun", I said benignly.

"You've been smiling more nowadays", he said, belching whilst pouring the remnant of the gravy into his mouth.

"I did?".

"I'm not blind you know and not deaf either. An angel told me you'd look better if you can just curl your lips upwards instead of keeping it in a straight line".

He got off the stool and had the bowl washed before returning to the table with glasses of cold soya bean milk mom made the night before. Cubes of ice clinked as the glasses were raised and set down, melting away in the wholesome drink heated just an hour ago. Mom had always liked to have it all prepared by herself for the family, from soya bean milk, to santan to curry paste. None of that mass produced stuff at the grocer's shelf if she can help it.

"What else did this celestial creature tell you?" I said with a mocking smile.

"She also told me you brightened perceptibly of late. I can say though, it's as if years had fallen off you somewhat".

"Yeah, you're right. Even the mood is better. Haven't been doing it much during in the past many years that I felt like Cloud. You know, the music 'Cloud Smiles' from the Advent Children soundtrack?".

"Come to think of it, why the sudden change? What's so funny or happy about anyway?", he said, gulping the glass of white beverage. A quarter of it disappeared down his gastroinstestinal tract.

"Just something I decided to try to do more. Smiles are cheap you know - they only cost several ATPs to move the face muscles. Far easier to smile than to frown. And it does make me feel somewhat better, marginally or not. Whether it makes me look better is not up to me to say though".

"Won't you look like an idiot grinning for no apparent reason?".

"I'm not really grinning or putting on a hearty smile. It's more of a putting on a more cheerful face rather than one that looked as if being pulled over by the police. It was somewhat weird at a start, but after a while it becomes a lot more natural. Even when I take the train to work my lips are slightly curled upwards, eyes opened a little bigger".

"You still look like an idiot".

"A happier idiot", I corrected him.

A blue plastic bird slid out of its wooden house and cuckooed nine times before disappearing with a slam of its little door. I'm still somewhat fascinated by that beautifully constructed clock with a swinging cone as the pendulum. It has been with us for as long as we moved in.

"You wash these!", said Little Me who rushed to the living room. A short moment later the television came to life with the famous voice of Peter Cullen, "... Voltron, Defender of the Universe... " accompanied by the heroic music that heralded the second of the four-hour marathon of great television shows on a Saturday morning.

"Enjoy yourself, you little brat", I said.

He shouted back impatiently for being disturbed, "I will!".

I walked towards the stairs to go up after doing the dishes and took a glance at him. He took his eyes off the old Sony Trinitron television with dial knobs for tuning and looked back.

"Yeah, you improved your face somewhat. Good effort but can be better", he said, half looking at me half at the Ding Dang commercial on the TV.

"Oh shut up already and go watch Princess Aurora in her tight pink suit".

For a moment we just looked at one another.

A little grin blossomed on his lips that were so much like my own.