liyana,

You loved children. I sensed it pretty early on when you showed me photo of your newborn nephew while you were still studying in university. A chubby little face nestling close to your breast, and you happily remarked that now you were officially an aunt or more accurately, Mak Su.

You have always been big on family. You took pride of annual family gatherings which includes extended relatives especially during Eid. The more, the merrier, you said. You love crowds.

I remembered one Eid when you were busy preparing duit raya for the little cousins and nieces and nephews that you were going to meet that day. You were slotting in dollar notes in each little envelope. There were packets of them for you to fill in.

The sight of your toes curling in at the bottom of your maroon dress made me smile.

You were joyful at the thoughts of meeting them.

And making them happy.

I, on the other hand, had always tried to excuse myself from public gathering. Perhaps due to general lack of interest in crowd-meddling and meaningless conversations. Or maybe just from lack of exposure when growing-up where I was told to stay away from minding in other people’s business or conversations.

And as for kids. They were nuisance.

But on that Eid. I experienced something else.

As you were about to leave the family gathering, I remembered your 4-year-old niece came up to you in her pretty ballerina dress wearing tutu two sizes big. She gave you a hug. As she hooked her little arms around your neck, I saw your face lit up.

She said you were her favourite.

At that point I decided, I would not mind kids at all.

As long as it is with you.

Sure, they are a bunch of headaches. Life with kids is a terrifying territory to step into. But if I ever had to do it, it had to be with you.

liyana, you told me years ago that life without children is a self-destruction.

So finally taking the hint, there I was that night, lying on my back fully awake. You in my arms soundly asleep from what was quite an eventful day.

My mind just could not rest. Calculating numbers in my savings. Comparing a brand or two that I could recall from occasional glimpses of your fashion magazines. I know you were not expecting Winston, but you already had some jewelry from Bvlgari and Cartier. My thoughts went on being typically indecisive and completely clueless in contemplating the type of diamond ring that you might say yes to.

It went on for a while, I think. Must have fallen asleep in the midst of remembering the nearest location of Tiffany store from my office.

chairil