tall stool in front of a counter while Aunt Da heated up some food they had bought along the way. Uncle Kunn took plates, spoons and forks down from the cupboards. It seemed that Aunt Da and Uncle Kunn knew the apartment very well. Kati noticed Aunt Da had tears in her eyes and her nose was red. Clearly this whole place spoke to them of Mother. Many objects in the apartment seemed strangely familiar to Kati: memories hidden away in the deepest recesses of her mind, only now being awoken from their long slumber.
On the key ring was one key which Kati had not yet used. It must belong to the room upstairs, the room that Aunt Da did not want her to see just yet. Something awaited Kati on the other side of that last door.
This afternoon Kati would find out what that something was.
The Drawers
You became my future as my own life began its countdown.
The room upstairs was in complete darkness until Uncle Dong drew back the heavy curtains to let the daylight in. Kati squinted in the light and found herself standing in a room half the size of the one downstairs. A big cream-coloured desk dominated the room, with a leather-upholstered chair placed behind it. The chair looked so inviting that Kati sat herself down, while Uncle Dong stood beside her, his arms crossed, looking out the window on the scene below.
Kati sensed that this particular moment belonged to Uncle Dong. When he turned his face to Kati, he looked strange. Gone was all trace of teasing or merriment. He stood in a formal pose with one hand held out to the right. On another occasion, Kati might have said he looked like a guide taking her round a museum. Kati had been on a school excursion to Vimanmek , the Teak Palace, and it had made her feel the same way she felt now. Except in this museum she was the only visitor.
‘Your mother arranged this room just after she began to get ill. Before that she used it as an ordinary office. You probably won’t be able to see it all in a day, starting from that corner over there…’
Kati turned to look where Uncle Dong’s hand was pointing. There was a long cabinet that took up the entire wall, divided into little drawers, shelves, and glass-fronted display cases.
‘Your mother wanted you to know her as well as you possibly could. If you don’t count your grandpa and grandma, I’m probably the person who knew her the longest time. So she chose me to bring you here.’
His voice was huskier than usual. Kati had almost forgotten that Uncle Dong was actually related to Mother. Uncle Dong’s mother and Grandma had been cousins, but Uncle Dong only became friends with Mother when they were both at the same university.
‘Some people prepare a memorial book for their own funeral so those they leave behind will have something to remember them by. Your mother arranged this room especially for you. She gathered together everything that would speak to you of her life. Anything you want to know about your mother, you’ll find here.’
Kati wanted to know every minute of Mother’s life. Although, deep in her heart, she knew there was one period in which she was particularly interested.
Every drawer was numbered with a year. Mother was born in 1965 right here in Bangkok. The first row of drawers held her childhood. Kati opened a few drawers and found neat stacks of albums. Another drawer held notebooks with her school reports, certificates, prize medallions for English, and even handicraft work carefully placed in plastic. A folder containing a knitted woolly scarf bore a label in big letters saying that Grandma had knitted it for her to hand in to her teacher. The label of a smaller packet told Kati that this was Mother’s own handiwork that she’d had to knit in class when the teacher’s eyes were upon her, but hadn’t been good enough for marking.
Kati looked up at Uncle Dong, who was sitting on the pretty carpet not far from the cabinet.
‘That’s your mother’s own handwriting; the later packets are mine or
On the key ring was one key which Kati had not yet used. It must belong to the room upstairs, the room that Aunt Da did not want her to see just yet. Something awaited Kati on the other side of that last door.
This afternoon Kati would find out what that something was.
The Drawers
You became my future as my own life began its countdown.
The room upstairs was in complete darkness until Uncle Dong drew back the heavy curtains to let the daylight in. Kati squinted in the light and found herself standing in a room half the size of the one downstairs. A big cream-coloured desk dominated the room, with a leather-upholstered chair placed behind it. The chair looked so inviting that Kati sat herself down, while Uncle Dong stood beside her, his arms crossed, looking out the window on the scene below.
Kati sensed that this particular moment belonged to Uncle Dong. When he turned his face to Kati, he looked strange. Gone was all trace of teasing or merriment. He stood in a formal pose with one hand held out to the right. On another occasion, Kati might have said he looked like a guide taking her round a museum. Kati had been on a school excursion to Vimanmek , the Teak Palace, and it had made her feel the same way she felt now. Except in this museum she was the only visitor.
‘Your mother arranged this room just after she began to get ill. Before that she used it as an ordinary office. You probably won’t be able to see it all in a day, starting from that corner over there…’
Kati turned to look where Uncle Dong’s hand was pointing. There was a long cabinet that took up the entire wall, divided into little drawers, shelves, and glass-fronted display cases.
‘Your mother wanted you to know her as well as you possibly could. If you don’t count your grandpa and grandma, I’m probably the person who knew her the longest time. So she chose me to bring you here.’
His voice was huskier than usual. Kati had almost forgotten that Uncle Dong was actually related to Mother. Uncle Dong’s mother and Grandma had been cousins, but Uncle Dong only became friends with Mother when they were both at the same university.
‘Some people prepare a memorial book for their own funeral so those they leave behind will have something to remember them by. Your mother arranged this room especially for you. She gathered together everything that would speak to you of her life. Anything you want to know about your mother, you’ll find here.’
Kati wanted to know every minute of Mother’s life. Although, deep in her heart, she knew there was one period in which she was particularly interested.
Every drawer was numbered with a year. Mother was born in 1965 right here in Bangkok. The first row of drawers held her childhood. Kati opened a few drawers and found neat stacks of albums. Another drawer held notebooks with her school reports, certificates, prize medallions for English, and even handicraft work carefully placed in plastic. A folder containing a knitted woolly scarf bore a label in big letters saying that Grandma had knitted it for her to hand in to her teacher. The label of a smaller packet told Kati that this was Mother’s own handiwork that she’d had to knit in class when the teacher’s eyes were upon her, but hadn’t been good enough for marking.
Kati looked up at Uncle Dong, who was sitting on the pretty carpet not far from the cabinet.
‘That’s your mother’s own handwriting; the later packets are mine or
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