Stitches

I guess this is caused by aging, because I can't figure out my fondest memory with my dad. My cloudy brain is playing on me, but I have this vivid memory that I can't shake it off.

I was a primary school kid, probably when I was 8 or 9 years old. My mother's family had this tradition of gathering together in our summer home called Salim. Every Chinese New Year, my family and I returned to my parents' hometown in Sibu, Sarawak, Malaysia. That time of year always got me bursting with excitement that I couldn't wait to kick my school's butt off for a week or so. I got so tired of those mean Chinese boys calling me names and shooting me with arrows of hatred and discouragement. I remembered boarding a plane with a big smile on my small face.

Like my cousins, I was looking forward to a night when we get to play with firecrackers. Surprisingly, it was not illegal for the neighbourhoods in Sibu to be electrified by a storm of rainbow sparks. I loved that lively atmosphere when almost all balconies of houses were overtook by boxes of little balls that exploded and popped like soda or countless bundles of bamboo sticks with a flame lit on the tips that melted down like heated ice cream. There were some brave families who bought big tubes of explosive content to make fireworks. Real ones. The safety rule was to run far away from the fizzing fire before the tubes shot sparks in the air and boomed into huge aerial flowers. To my horror, the rule was broken...that night.

I couldn't remember how many were frolicking at the entrance of the mansion, but we were having a blast. All I saw were bright, sharp twirlings of bamboo sticks with fizzing sparks on each top. When the sparks reached to the bottom of the sticks, we had to drop them down to the road so that the spark could be extinguished. Dad volunteered to release fireworks with a few uncles. I peeked from a small cluster of orange stars that fizzed in front of me. The group walked to a distance from us and arranged bundles of firework equipment in a circle. With one whip of a fire match, an uncle lit on top of the material bunch and there was a loud whistle...followed by a silence. It wasn't an ordinary silence. I couldn't quite see what happened because the darkness of the night blinded my vision.

And the next thing I remembered, I was sitting on a bench of the porch. My mom told me that Dad was injured. Chills crawled to my spine as I held my breath. My eyes locked straight ahead as two uncles helped my dad to sit on the bench opposite my mother and I. I felt like watching a live screening of a serial killer scene. His head was covered in crimson fluid. I wanted to scream, but I was too scared to say a word. He was shortly sent to the nearest hospital. My mom took me into the house and straight to a bedroom where my family stayed over for the night. "Go take a shower and get changed, Michele." Mom ordered. "What about Papa?" I asked. My heart was beating wildly as I wanted to dart back to the porch so that I can follow my dad to the hospital. "He'll be fine, don't worry." Mom replied. I hated being a bad girl, so I obeyed her. I even couldn't sleep well that night. The fluorescent lamp outside the room was still bright like an angel's radiance. It shone through the half-closed curtains of the window. All I could think while staring at that light was Dad.

The next day, I was slurping my favourite noodles called Kam Pua. It was a popular Foochow dish and funny that, it was available in hawker stalls of Sibu. At a corner of my eye, Dad approached through the opened doors of the living room. He greeted me with a small smile. As I looked up, the top of his head was in stitches (I couldn't remember the exact number) and was protected by a big bandage. He said that he was okay, his head would be healed in a few weeks..or was it months?

The bloody paint all over his head that night haunted me at times, but I reminded myself that Dad was saved by God. Thank the Lord that he had blessed Dad's life.From that day onward, I tried not to play with firecrackers too much and I've never saw Dad going near to the firework tubes ever since.