Five

When I was young, I'd lived at my grandparents' place until I was five. My memories are few but by no means hazy. I do remember growing up among the blaring of the siren that tells the workers it is lunch time (they lived in a shop house running a family business), the ringing of the telephones, the house being cleaned each day, the joss sticks lighted and 'fed' at the alters, the vacuum cleaner humming lullabies.

Sometimes it surprises me at how random the memories can be, such as running into the living room to give them a hug, sitting on the back of a bicycle and sitting on my grandfather's lap as he parks his car properly. And even the toy below which, believe it or not, I used to play with, the sort of toy where you have to fit some blocks in according to their shapes. 

It has since been passed to my three younger cousins and recently the newest addition to the family. It used to be difficult to remove the blocks, taking a strong adult to open it and let the yellow blocks fall out once again. Time has loosened its grip. 

During the Hungry Ghost Festival on the Seventh Month of the Chinese Calendar, we performed our first ancestral rites without the presence of either of my grandparents. I suppose the arrangement can be improved.  Times are changing, it seems. We are all just holding onto the past.

And even so, time is loosening its grip.