7 Jalan Harom Setangkai

I spent my formative years growing up in 7 Jalan Harom Setangkai. It was the family home that my grandparents had bought in the late '70s as an investment for them and their 3 children, and it became my home from 1997 to 2001. Around 1997, my parents decided they couldn't afford to pay the mortgage on our current house, so they decided swallow their pride and move back to my grandparent's place. The move made sense, after all my grandparents now had 3 free rooms because all their adult children had moved out, and at 7 I was an absolute pest about being separated from my grandmother. We ended up staying there till end of 2001 (I don't remember moving during the school year), so I spent a good chunk of my childhood in that place, and it definitely left a strong impression on me.

Living in that house as a chid was great. My grandparents were always around during the day time (OK, not great when my grandmother came after me to study) and there were lots of area to play around in. There was the old wooden bar which was a massive dust bomb because the maid completely ignored it - felty green carpet and all, the staircase landing in the middle that had its own little window and curtain - which was excellent for playing 'house' in, and the large garden complete with all sorts of plants and trees. The house was also filled with all sorts of odd knick knacks. I once found movie film canisters in my grandparent's room [see: second floor, area on bottom right labelled 'junk'] sitting next to a rusting treadmill, and I would play with the wood shavings and various substances my dad would use for his luthier hobby out on the back balcony. Fruit season was fun too, because the rambutan tree always blossomed like crazy, and there were always rambutans to eat.

I have many memories associated with that place, all of them warm and fuzzy, from a time where I was less anxious and less scared of everything. Thinking about it makes me feel happy and safe, but it also makes me feel a little sad because I know that the 7 Jalan Harom Setangkai I remember only exists in my recollections. After we moved out in 2001, the house was completely torn down and rebuilt, then my grandparents sold it and the new owner decided to rebuild the house from scratch (again! Ahaha).

Today after picking my grandparents up to go to lunch, we ended up driving past the old house. Of the entire row of houses along Jalan Harom Setangkai, number 7 was the only house that had been altered completely beyond recognition from my childhood. Still, I should be thankful that I have so many vivid and nice memories of my childhood home.