Little Women

little women of my childhood gravel lane, fill out a part of my memory of linked-wooden houses built on stilts. their crowning glories still so vivid; how they flipped like a pendulum from shoulder to shoulder as they ran; those different-styled hair each carving a story and character in my own little women world; straight, graceful tresses, shoulder-length lioness-styled crown, and their varied-toned skins; fair, dark, palsy so many different shades in one family, it's a wonder how genes work. all these differences held tight by a love that flowed so abundantly from shy mom and salt fish market businessman dad. how they had run helter skelter from their games of rope jumping, hide and seek, hopscotch, .... for home when they saw daddy strolling home with his straw basket round his elbow, the dollars and cents of the day to get the family runnning. his subtle gentle smile that hid a world of love for the frightful children in his presence. the children who all earned much favours from their keen attitude towards studies and those paper bags they so skillfully folded and gummed for daddy's merchandise as well as for friends to earn those extra cents to get tickets for the next famous epics from hong kong, taiwan. brother fell in love with one fair one in his upper secondary study. a puppy love that soon turned sour. my childhood lane's only broken heart story. my childhood lane how every inch is still still filled with experiences sweet, sour, bitter, a part of my life that runs like a cartoon movie. those childhood characters I wonder whether they could spare some time with me to to walk down those cement blocks and tarred road that have overtaken the scenes but not the soul. i wonder could that be their best days too?