before the memories fade.

i should pen down all the memories i have of my dad, before they grow dim.


as i ate supper today, i sat at the table alone.
and i was hit by this ancient memory, a lil' something which happened somewhere in primary 4 or so.

my round, marble-top dining table.
my dad, sat, roughly opposite me, a bit to the right.
and i probably had a sulk on my face.

it was lunchtime, i had just returned from school, and i was eating merrily (expressed in speed) when my dad sat down next to me, and scrutinised my less-than-appealing manners.
and then he told me how gentlemen should eat, and i was not eating like a gentleman, and it was bad manners, and i told him, dad i'm eating at home, it doesn't matter. and the likes.

but anyway he made me slow down, and raised his voice everytime the rate of my food-in-mouth replacing went too fast, or the speed of my spoon was too hasty (seriously). and i got so frustrated, cos the way i enjoyed my food was to stuff myself, so it was a pain to eat slowly.

well, he succeeded in that session, and many more onwards.
whenever he saw me eat a tad too fast again, at any meal time, his standard line would be, "Slowly, ryannn..."



I appreciatively chewed on my food as I savoured this memory tonight.
and smiled inwardly, seeing how my dad had succeeded.



thanks dad. (:





feels like a descending sort-of sorrow.