I was 8 years old that time when i was playing with my grandmother's ring at the kitchen until she smacked my head and put the ring back on the upper level of the cabinet where i cant reach it. She used to take it out when she was doing 'things' that she suppose to do in kitchen. I don't know what her reason and i didn't bother to ask.
Then i remembered my grandfather bought her a new ring somewhere in the same year. For which occasion, again i didn't bother my ass.
But the next day i noticed she still wearing the old ring and take out the same old ring from her finger and again put it on top of the cabinet where obviously make it harder for me.
This time, i insisted of being passive. I asked, "why don't you wear your new ring?". Then she replied, "my hand aren't pretty enough. cant you see all this vein popped out under my skin? i don't want people kept staring at the ring and then noticed the wrinkle."
According to my height as an 8 year old boy, probably my eyes are staring straight at her hand every single day and ya, i kind of noticed the wrinkle and all the vein but it seems like very normal.
Cause that hand would ended up at my face or at my butt when I've done a mess. Those hand made my fever gone every time it touches my head. Those wrinkle hand that without no doubt washed my cloth, ironed my school uniform and even combed my hair. The same hand that i used to kissed every morning. It was those ugly wrinkle hand and it kind of had it own smell, it own touch.
And maybe those hand that had made me this way, who i am today. Not loads, but one can call it a human being. hehe.. but she's unlucky enough to see it.
Al-Fatihah,
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