Parts of my new resolutions when I left secondary school were:

a) To control my emotions fully
b) And definitely no tantrums

I’m getting better at those.

I was settling myself comfortably on my bed, ready to start my Korean cds marathon. Only then I realised there were only 6 pillows. The 7th one; my pillow hug was missing. Anger was building up because I really really hated it if someone moved my stuff. My maid has to put up with my BRAT-OF-THE-WORLD act everytime she tidied my room because she usually don’t put my stuff back where they belong. It’d usually end up with me asking crossly, “What’s the point of a desk if not to put stuff on?” I don’t mind if people use my things without my permission, really, as long as they’re there when I want to use them. Otherwise, don’t even bother.

Blaming myself for not realising this sooner, I went everywhere around the house looking for it. Everywhere accessible since the other rooms were already locked and they were already sleeping in their beds. I ignored the squirmy feeling and assured myself I’d ask my maid tomorrow. She of all people should know. Predictably, the first thing I did when I woke up was went to my maid’s room.

“Kak, where’s my pillow hug?”

“Try looking in your bro’s room. I think I put it there.”

Trying to ignore the annoyed feeling, I went.

Question 1: Why was it there?
Question 2: Why wasn’t it on MY bed in MY room where, might I remind everyone, it should naturally be?
Question 3: Who the heck dare removed it??

To my huge relief, I found it on his bed. To my utter horror, it’s naked without it’s case.

Carrying my precious pillow hug, I went back to my maid’s room.

“Where’s the pillow case?” My layers of patience were holding on nicely.

“Your mum threw it away,”

I threw my head back and laughed; that’s so illogical. I asked her to stop joking and tell me where my pillow case was.

“Really, your mum threw it away. If you don’t believe me, ask your mum.”

I went to the kitchen. She was busily baking some cake.

“Mum, did you throw my pillow hug’s case??” I demanded. New resolutions could go to the bin.

She looked lost and said, “What are you on about? No I didn’t.”

“Kak Us told me you threw it away! My pillow hug’s case!”

“Oh, that. I threw it away. I should throw your pilow hug as well, it’s so old.”

My pillow hug’s case. The one gran made for me when I was still a baby. The one I had for more than 18 years. The one that had my name, sewed on by me on my first attempt of sewing when I was still a child. She might as well said she gave one of my rabbits away.

I broke down and cried.

So it’s old. So the colours have faded and you couldn’t see the pattern of white flowers against the baby blue anymore. That’s my damn business and mine alone.

After a moment, my maid came into my room. She told me she had tried saving it when my mum told her to throw it away. That she hid it in the closet outside because she knew how much it meant to me. But then mum found it and scolded her for disobeying. Then she used it to stuff dead leaves. She said my mum couldn’t understand the whole nostalgic business and that she’s emotionless. Now I know where I got those traits from.

Only that I would never ever stuff dead leaves inside someone’s pillow hug’s case. There’s a difference.

Funny how my maid knew me better than my own mother.

Volcano failed to errupt and hurricanes didn’t blew the houses away. I didn’t yell at my mum. I didn’t throw the green Kamus Dewan: Edisi Ketiga (what a waste of RM 50) against the door. I didn’t pretend I’d accidently smashed her precious teak chairs to the floor (she’d probably kill me anyway. And stuff me with dead leaves.) I didn’t even sulk.

I just cried and cried like a kid that had lost her favourite toy. How mature was that huh.

I don’t blame my mum. That’s how she is. Hard on the outside and soft on the inside. Well, most of the time.

One thing is clear though; I’m bringing my pillow hug with me when hols are over. No way anyone’s dirty hands are getting on it again.

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