Nancy

Mum picked me up from the station as usual tonight, only I wasn't going to join her for dinner, instead I was to meet a friend for a slightly posh meal at 'Prime Society'. I ask her how her day has been, and mums like 'yeah busy I've been trying to sort out the photos, you know there are like 50 years, at least yeah. of these photos.' '50?' 'Yeah, maybe more'. 'Uh huh' I reply with my comic book open in my lap.

'Don't look in the guest room' she says, 'it's like a war zone'

Peering in for a moment it is quite a mess, I never knew we had this many pictures of ourselves. It actually looks like she'd ransacked the place. Old gutted albums hanging of sofa arms, their contents strewn across the floor in little clumps - the 95 clump, the 82 clump, the 83 clump. On the study table is a more carefully constructed clump, complete with yellowing little caption sheets she must have written over the last 50 years - wait that can be right - well over however many years of photos we have stocked.

There must be hundreds, of these tiny little yellow captions neatly written, torn from their perforated sheets and inserted beneath ...well a majority of these photos. One reads 'Smile Batman!', another - 'My first trip to the beach' - I never really understood the whole firstperson thing, I mean surely that was My first trip to the beach, why couldn't she have written 'Adrian's first beach' - the impersonations go on. I think I've read a lot of these before - 'My 2nd birthday'. Maybe one day when I grow up I can show these to someone young and fool them into thinking that I was a super genius, or at least had sophisticated and feminine handwriting.

"It's really not that bad" I tell her as I continue up the stairs.

How many people will ever read those captions?
I wonder how many she had in mind when she wrote them.

Coming home later I walk in on her still deciphering the clumps and the albums.

"You were such a cute kid" she reminisces.
I look in the mirror.
Man I hate this haircut.
Mum thinks my hairdresser -Bobo- hates me.

She Chuckles fakely as she hands me a green cloth bound photo album. 'do you want to see your father's old girlfriends?' 'Sure,' I flip open to a page of wallet sized photos, 'You should see what they write on the backs' she fake-chuckles.

Nancy :

Dearest Kenny,

Drink hot coffee,
burn your lips,
and remember me,
with love,
Nancy,

16.12.1970

Caption reads 'Nancy Kok' - written in slightly stylized all-caps, red ball point pen and on a sheet of ruled paper with crudely hand- beveled edges. There are two others with names, none on hand beveled paper though, a Suzane Chin and a Maggie Khoo, pretty but well, yeah very blah 'please remember me/the times we had etc..' all also dated similarly around the end of the year in 1970. That must have been when I left for Melbourne I guess? Why the hell am I even checking out my dad's ex's ?

But damn. That's awesome Nancy.
mum's so totally jealous.