Old, but still young at heart

I was at the innocent age of 6 or 7 - not too sure - and in the process of growing up, when I was told of something which amazed me. We were on our way to church on a Sunday morning, and beside me sat Nanny. She was her usual self, chirpy and well-prepared with nonsensical inquiries regarding anything and everything that was mentioned during the entire journey. Inquiries or questions which weren't linked to any expectation for any answers as they were only brought up to fill in the gaps where silence crept its way in. Sort of like a cue-card thought which was just a contrivance to throw us off track so that we'd repeat ourselves and include her in the conversation. Cheeky, much. 

Along the way, Dad made a sharp turning and was on the Sungei Besi road. Seemingly more awake and alert that morning, it was the first time I bothered to look out of the window. Straight ahead on my right, slightly below the glowing white clouds that illuminated the dark sky which was slowly being dominated by lighter shades of blue, there was a lonely hangar. Airplanes, different sizes and models of airplanes were stored in there and being the thorn among the beautiful red roses, a big olive green beated- up helicopter stood out. It reminded me of the aircrafts that were summoned to war during the attack on Pearl Harbor. I ooh-ed and aah-ed and taking notice of the gleam in my eyes, Nanny told me that in her early days, she used to fly it. Being to little tell the difference between her lying and honest face, I believed her. She had the most innocent eyes, the kind of eyes children have and nothing in me could have imagined her feeling me lies - even if it was an innocent, little while lie. 

A few years later- more like a few months ago-  we passed by the hanger again when I suddenly pondered upon that little memory of what she had told me that day and retrieved it from the distant part of my brain it had been pocketed into. This time however, I started to doubt it. It was to the point where I couldn't just let it go so, taking advantage of the remaining time I had with her seated beside me, I decided to bring it up. As I ask her about the olive-green helicopter, interrogating her, I felt as if my conscience was laughing at me because after a few seconds too late, I realized how stupid it sounded. But of course - being senile but not deaf - she heard it, registered it for a while and without giving me a straight answer, she began to laugh her evil wicked-witch laugh. I knew then that she was just messing around with me, but even so, I sulked during the entire ride back home. 

This, coming from the person who taught me to always tell the truth and that even if it is a little white lie, it is still a lie, I couldn't believe it. I was disappointed and papaya-faced for the rest of the day. The 7 year-old me would have cried but the 18-year-old me just sat in the corner and kept to myself. I wondered if she would've told me the truth instead of feeding me those lies... but I then realized that it wouldn't matter either way. In this life, there are these people whom you can live without, people whom you can stay mad at and not give a damn if you ever forgive them or not. But then, on the other hand, there are also these handful of people whom you can scwabble with, have tiff after tiff and disagreement after disagreement...but at the end of the day, you'd realize that if it wasn't even your fault and if they weren't willing to apologize, you would do so anyway because you cherish the relationship more than you do your pride and ego. Nanny is one of those people in the latter category. 

I'm beginning to cherish and appreciate my grandma a little more these days, even though I know I should've started a long time ago. She's now sitting in the corner on her usual right-side of the sofa, catching the rays of sunlight that stream through the window as she leafs through the Sunday Times. I glance over to her every now and then and I think of the times I put my pride ahead of my better judgement, which lead to never-ending disagreements. I think of the times I raised my voice while trying to put my point across to her. I think of the times I shouted back at her when she was just advising me to be careful. I think and replay those horrible events and am washed over by a wave of regret. 

She's sitting only a few feet away from me and I miss her, and that's never a good way to miss someone. We haven't fought for a few weeks now and I'm beginning to believe that my Wednesdays aren't cursed after all. Nevertheless, I hope she knows I love her. After Grandpa passed away, she is the only one I have left and no matter what, there would always be a part of me that would be willing to do anything to see and make her happy.