If I reach into my memory to recall my childhood, a major part of it looks like this:
School holidays or occasional major festive seasons were the time that I look forward to, almost like how I look forward to an overseas trip. That was the time that I got to go back to my biological family. Not because of any personal preference. No, a child does not develop personal preference at the mere age of 6. It was exciting because it meant that I could spend time with my siblings who shared a smaller age gap where we could watch cartoons together and play pretend together.
One of the core memories I have from those time were back when my family still stayed in the one bedroom government flats. I could still remember the layout of the room so clearly in my mind. It was a small flat, kitchen and toilet on the right as you enter the house, living area on the left. As you move deeper in, you'd find another door on the right leading you into the shared bedroom with a queen size mattress on the floor on the left, a double decker bed on the right, a dresser at a corner. And the house gradually opens out to a small balcony overlooking the highway in the far distant. It was nothing, but it was everything to me.
It was always play time with my siblings and the neighbour kids during the day. In the evening when my father comes home from a long day of work, we'd have dinner. Some times with the news on, other times we'd listen to conversation between my parents. My father sharing his day with my mother, while my mother updating him on the latest gossips of our neighbourhood. The day usually ends with some card games or boardgames in the bedroom after we set it up for bed time.
Naturally, because I was always away from my parents and also being the youngest daughter, they have a higher tendency to let me get my way, especially if me and siblings were fighting over things. And my mother would always buy me snacks or toys from the nearby sundry shops.
In contrast, in my memory - returning back to Mummy and Daddy household always felt a little cold, a little lonely. Mummy was a stricter mom and the age gap between me and her three kids are much, much wider. She has two daughters and a son. Daughters are eldest and youngest respectively while the son is the middle child. As far as I could remember, the youngest daughter was the only sibling that was always around in the house, but even then our age gap was so wide that she was already well in her teenage years that kept herself to her room most of the time when I was still a child needing a playmate.
Going back to Mummy and Daddy also always means school time; routines of going to school, finishing homework and playing by myself or watching tv by myself.
Growing up with this arrangement and dynamic as a core part of my life and identity, I have always been told and reminded on the whys and whats that preceded my situation. However, when you were barely 12 years old, you cannot understand and you were only left to accept.
Accept that there is this duality in your life where no other friends from school share the same predicament. Accept that your biological family equates to fun times that are a rare treat. Accept that at the end of the holiday season you'd have to go back to another family where you live comfortably but isolated.
Because you cannot understand anything else deeper than that at such a young age. You cannot understand your biological family's financial frugality. You cannot understand your adopted family's kindness and generosity.
As a child, you slowly begin to wonder, hope even, if one day - fun times will never have to come to an end.
To be continued.