The older your parents get, the more visitors they get. Come Raya time this fact will hit you at full speed, and all you can do is grab some Sunlight and a sponge, and get things started at the kitchen sink.
Of course prior to that there will be all the cleaning and rubbing and mopping and arranging you'll have to do. And as the guests arrive there will be a lot of
bancuh airs and
hidang kuehs on the way.
Before you could join the crowd for some socializing more guests will arrive, and you're back at step two. That of
bancuh airs and
hidang kuehs, of course.
Some guests with a tad of kidney failure and slight case high-blood pressure tend to ask for
air suam, so there'll be that to take care of too. Young at heart and strong in spirit, that's what they are. Most likely your parent's schoolmate back in Sungai Sumun in 1949.
Kids without fail will be part of the new demographic brought by the guests. Screaming, laughing, running,
kencing, TV-remote-control stealing kids. Adorable, pinchable creatures, that's what they are.
And parents with standard control measures: "Aidil boy, mama said put-that-down! Now!" or "Fitri..! Fitri! Muhammad Fitri Afifi Haziq Ziryab bin Muhammad Iqbal! Stop it!" Unimpressive hardworking matadors, that's what they are.
Then there's you - the one with the pair of hands and a pair of legs and some brain cells behind the eye sockets. Yes, you, the one capable of making changes in the domestic plane:
The you who brings out the
ketupats and
lemangs and clean up the crumbs when all guests left.
The you who juggles the glasses and plates and make two litres of
air sirap under ten seconds. (Some say 9.98 seconds, but who's timing?)
The you who knows where the rest of the semperit and London Almonds were hiding.
The you who managed to tidy up three separate parts of the house while making the
air sirap for the next lot of guests.
And the you who did dishes, dissing and cursing as they slip and crack.
