My thoughts drift towards my kampung. It isn't really my 'hometown' in the true sense of the word. I wasn't born or raised there. Kuala Lumpur is my home but I will always have a special connection to this tiny little place in the middle of nowhere. Gazing out the car window, it's interesting to watch as the scenery changes slowly but drastically. We're here. The sea breeze in our faces, the tall coconut trees that we don't park cars under, the sand that we struggle to keep out of our footwear... this place is so foreign yet so familiar. Did we just get that new gate? Oh, and we have a cat now?
In a way, the passing of my grandfather means that there will no longer be a good reason to bring us back to this place; no reason to drive 7 hours away from civilization. I foresee us slowly losing our ties to this place. It makes me sad as I imagine cobwebs and dust slowly gathering over the creaky wooden flooring, slowly covering up our past...
Will my kids ever know of this place? Will they get to swim in that mangrove river literally in the backyard? Will they get to feed the chickens right through those slotted wooden planks of the living room floor? Will they get to experience showering with well water or running to the outdoor bathroom in the middle of the night? Would they be woken by the crowing of roosters, spend lighthearted afternoons at the pondok, make coconut husk bonfires and just stare at the star-filled sky?
I did mention that it was a ramble... one which I ended abruptly on that note.
With that said, my grandfather will remain in my memories and so will the peaceful days we spent in the kampung.