Worn Story 2
The small, semitransparent bear shaped soap container is the item I’ve decided to bring as a representation of something that holds sentimental value. The soap container is not brand new — it carries a number of scrape marks along with peeled off paints. Though I said that the container is in a shape of a bear, it actually means that it is in a shape of a teddy bear. Spherical head and spherical body, with a lightly painted heart shape on its belly button and some tainted marks. Its eyes, as symmetrical as ever, looking upwards giving it a hint of mischievous personality. The rest is just like a normal soap container: a pipe, a cover and a pump to squeeze soap out. I don’t even know why I was so crazy about this little thing back then.
I still remember it as if it was yesterday. My sister and I went shopping with my mom after practicing the piano — or so we did. We weren’t suppose to come out if we didn’t practice the piano for at least an hour, but no one was home. I did my job and my sister didn’t. “Just tell mom I practiced my piano, and we will be able to go shopping” was what she told me. “OK.”
It was a hot summer day, we all rushed into the shopping mall as soon as we got out of the bus. The shopping mall was filled with people, like any other weekends. Despite having visited it quite a few times, the rows of shops never fails to churn up the curiosity within me. Pretty dresses, alluring scents, shiny jewelries, toys, books, stationaries… the list was endless. As we wonder around this shopping heaven, we came across this little shop that sells various interesting things. Old school figures, colourful paintings, picture frames… and bingo! Both my sister and my eyes were suddenly filled with sparkles. We rushed towards the one and only bear shape container in the store. “I got here first.”
And so it begun, the infamous sisters’ fight. My sister was 7 years older than me, she’s not suppose to be fighting over things with her little sister, I thought. “This is mine, I’m not giving it to you,” and then she ran off to mom and asked her to buy it. On our way back I kept begging and whining my sister to give it to me, in hopes to also let my mom hear it as well. As usual, results was negative. Mom asked us to share it, but I was childish, I was selfish — we both were. “Sis didn’t play her piano this afternoon!” I said it. My silver bullet. And things went bad. My sister was scolded, I was scolded, and the soap container was out of our sight. We didn’t even talk to each other for a week!
I couldn’t remember exactly how we made up with each other, but it was probably another partners in crime incident, like playing the gameboy on a weekday. It wasn’t until last summer, when we were moving houses, that my mom asked me if I still wanted the soap container. “Why don’t you give this to me another 10 years later?” I said playfully. Of course, I took it with me and brought it to New York, since my sister was already working in another country. I messaged my sister about this and I think she almost went out of breathe laughing. We both did.
This container’s back story may not be as interesting as the Hollywood movies, nor does it hold any special meaning, but it does remind me about lots of things. Despite hating each other, we always get over it at some point. Families are like that, it doesn’t matter how many times you may hurt their heart, or the other way round, they will always end up being someone that is irreplaceable — someone who is willing to be with you no matter what.
