The Subangite's affinity for serving its residents with fireworks, the sound of basketballers playing outside my window, looking at what people were eating down at Kak Su, the wee hours of the morning spent having proper girl-dates with shins dipped in the pool, and the grocery stores with grocers remembering my favorite purchase: Milk with 3 Cream-O's. My usrah sessions tailored to be an escapade from the week's stress, doing chores just one day before the cleaners come for inconsistent fortnightly visits, having faux-homemade meals on the dining table while reminiscing about home. Fauziah and my weekly visit to Mydin, coming back strolling the trolley. The buses which always conspire to park farther than the gate and difference of five minutes between having a comfortable seat and waiting on the teasing morning heat for the bus. The delivery people who always kept me waiting and finally came with extra portions. The awkward exchanges with people on a near-empty elevator.
I would lie if I had even glimpsed the opportunity to be here before I received my accommodation instructions.
All the times we sighed at-the-moment impulses,saying, "Someday". It taught me a whole new level of freedom, and knowing the restraints as well as when to go for it. A territory I trod partially unaware of how much I would miss it when it's time to pack up.
Tomorrow at 5 p.m, I'll be officially checking out. Goodbye, Casa away from home.
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