Author: Kwan Zhi Jian Andrew
When I think back to my primary school days, my heart fills with warmth, especially when I remember how my grandparents were always there for me, rain or shine. Every morning, without fail, they would be the first ones awake, making sure I was up on time for school. My grandmother would come into my room with her gentle voice, softly reminding me to hurry up so I wouldn’t miss the class. Her voice, full of care, made mornings feel less rushed, like I had a little extra time before the school day began.
But it wasn’t just the reminders that made those mornings special — it was the fact that my grandparents never missed a chance to send me off with love. They’d make sure I was ready and send me off with a warm hug, waving goodbye as I walked out the door. And when the school day ended, they were there waiting for me. No matter how busy their day was, they always made time to pick me up, and I’d see their faces light up when I ran toward them after the bell rang.
There were times, though, when things didn’t go quite as planned at home. If my parents were upset and discipline came into play, I always knew that my grandparents had my back. They would shield me from any caning, stepping in with calm words and a protective hand. They always made sure I felt safe, and in those moments, I would find comfort in their unwavering support, knowing that they would never let me face hardship alone.
And then, of course, the weekends — that’s when they truly spoiled me. I’d hear the familiar sound of the “ding ding” ice cream truck down the street, and I’d rush to my grandparents, knowing they’d always give me a few dollars for a treat. The thrill of hearing the ice cream truck’s chimes still echoes in my mind today. It wasn’t just about the ice cream; it was the joy of sharing those simple moments with them, feeling cared for in the most innocent and pure way.
Those days, filled with their constant care and small acts of love, shaped my childhood and remain some of my fondest memories.
