Little Things

Today I've continued taking pictures of and around the house, counting on the dewy morning light to turn everything poignant. After a while of shooting perspectives of various furniture and carelessly strewn stuff, my eyes fell on a mostly forgotten part of my bed.

I don't know about you, but my folks have always believed in having solid furniture. For the longest time, nothing but solid pinewood would do. I don't know if my bedframe is made of pinewood, but it sure is heavy and clunky. To be fair, it was part of a double decker bed (the other half being with Karate Kid). I remember having tons of fun when the beds were stacked upon each other. We must have thrown the ladder away eons ago. Pity - it would otherwise be a thrill to put the beds together before we leave, just to know again what it looked and felt like.

But don't worry, I'm not about to say that I will cling on to my bedposts and not leave the house. What struck me were the little Care Bear decals that had been scratched onto the bedposts, many many years ago. Ten of them in all, 5 on each bedpost that's exposed. Each of them are different, and whoever scratched them on did so with lots of love, because they are all aligned properly and neatly spaced out. Clearly not the prankish work of restless children.

What's the big deal about some small stickers on a bedpost? No big deal - you can buy such stickers today in buckets, in more characters than you can finish counting in a day. But unlike many stickers of today, these decals seem to have stayed on the bedposts like a second skin. They're peeling in some parts, but the years seem to have imprinted them in the grain.

Somehow, the little Care Bears made me think of the love parents have for their children. For the longest time, Finance Minister was always at home with us, and we counted on Granite Man to bring back the dough. We were not poor, but we worked very hard to meet ends meet. Those were the days when I would think hard about spending the fifty cents I had in my pocket. In that kind of context, the little Care Bears seem rather frivolous. How much did such things cost in those days, relative to what we could spare?

The enduring, silent presence of these little Care Bears also seem to mirror the unwavering support that parents give their children, through the growing-up pains of their risky adventures, cowardly moments, glorious failures and great victories. The years may peel away the vivid hues of their advice, nagging, applause and tears, but their belief in us is imprinted in the grain of our lives.

It must be the dewy morning light.