Holding Hands

I take my maternal grandfather out on a regular basis. He is my only living grandparent left, and ever since I was born, we've been close. When I used to go back to Sitiawan, where my mother is from, my grandfather would take me for ice kacang and laksa by Lumut beach, and now that he lives here in KL, I take him out for artisan ice cream. Times have changed, but the relationship hasn't. So this one is for the baddest #BadassKongKong out there. 

She held onto his hand.

The other grasping onto the ice cream cone he had bought for her, and she skipped along to his footsteps. She held on tight to his hand, tighter than she did the ice cream cone. Her little 6-year old hand barely fit into his bigger one, and she looked up at him, smiled, and happily continued licking her ice cream. She barely paid attention to where she was going, because she knew that with her hand in his, she’d be safe.

He held onto her hand.

He grasped on it tightly. Almost like he was afraid of losing her, as well as his footing. He walked slowly, one cautious step at a time. She walked steadily next to him, eyes roaming for dangers ahead – uneven pavements, puddles, anything that could cause a fall. She calculated the route ahead of time, minimizing any difficulty he might have to face. She heard him gasp for air slightly, and she asked if he was okay. He looked up at her, now a whole foot taller than him, and smiled. She hoped that he knew that with his hand in hers, he’d be safe.

- SB
6.15pm, 14th September 2015
Ghetto HQ
SB is a conflicted soul of sorts, who is mad enough to go chase after what she really loves as opposed to conform to society and her mother's idea of a successful person. She prays she makes it in life, because she will not be able to tolerate the nagging that would follow if she doesn't. Her inspiration comes from everything around her, as well as made up situations in her head. Good luck distinguishing between the two. 

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