It was a look back couple of weeks for me.

The previous Tuesday afternoon, I met up with a school friend. From the class of SNC’78. Whilst my husband, mum-in-law sat. The Friday before, I caught up with three of my university mates. All of whom I had not seen since the Covid pandemic. The outings were good, long catch-ups.

The one-on-one on Tuesday helped my classmate and me get to know each other a little better – the older, adult us. We have met several times before, and we met again last May but always in large groups. The get together was after one of our classmates had passed away, and another was leaving for England. Over dinner, there was too little time. Too many criss-crossing, and fleeting conversations.  

Hence, it was only last week that I learnt that this classmate has two grown-up children. We spoke about our families, work, likes and hobbies. Interesting were the perceptions we had of each other as teenagers. I thought she was quiet and introverted while she saw me as confident and sociable. Hmm. We were in the Arts/Commerce stream in the same class as 40 other students. All were/are friends but I hung out, in particular, with five girls, who are not part of the online and/or physical group of classmates. I have no contact with them. Strange and a little sad because we spent a fair bit of our young secondary school going lives together. We visited each other’s houses. Went to movies. Cycled to have Knickerbocker Glory at the only ice-cream parlour in town. And, watched the 1975 Hockey World Cup with two of them in Penang. One of their dad’s had tickets for the match, and he drove us to the stadium. On a school day, no less.

Thinking/looking back led me to my favourite primary and secondary school teachers. Ms. Poh, my standard one form teacher, Ms. Oon, who taught me commerce and Mrs. Kamal, geography. Of course, my alma mater, St Nicholas Convent, where I attended school from seven to 17. As did sisters number 1 and 2. The building, the layout, the flag pole in front of the canteen where assembly was held, ‘my’ classrooms, and the field where the annual sports day took place. Although the school is no more, it stands very real in my head.

I also spent a good part of Friday with my university mates. We had coffee/tea, chatted, had lunch, chatted some more, had tea/coffee and carrot cake, chatted some more. Without shifting. Until we saw the staff readying to close at 6pm. Thankfully, we had convened at RGB Coffee, where lingering was ok.

It was easy and comfortable being with old friends. We met in our early twenties, and we are in our 60’s now. One of the girls was my roommate in my first and third year at university. Girls, I said. She, a mother of two, had earlier warned that she might have to leave our gathering if her first grandson decided to make an entrance that day. Considerately, he arrived on Sunday, not disrupting his grandma’s plans.

We spoke about almost everything. WhatsApp, God and karma, health, ailments, family. We reminisced about each other’s families. I knew/know their parents, siblings and a few nieces and nephews as I used to spend enough weekends at their homes, over the four-year course. The girls/ladies kindly invited me along. Otherwise, I would have been by my lonesome on campus as my hometown was too far for weekend getaways.

In turn, they knew/know my family, mainly brother number 1, who visited me all through my university days. One of them reminded me of the mutton/lamb spaghetti that my mum had cooked the night she and her husband visited us in Subang Jaya in the 1990’s. The same friend has said she will visit my mum the next time she is in Kuala Lumpur. Nice. She lives in Penang. My friends re-collected attending my dad’s funeral in Alor Setar in 1985. I cannot quite remember but one helped guard/protect my mum from overzealous relatives while the other two helped look after nephew number 2, who was just two weeks old then. This year, nephew number 2 turned 38, and has a three-year-old son.

Our conversations took me back many years. To my home in Taman Golf, Alor Setar. Bangi where the campus was located, and Block D our first-year hostel. Kajang, the town closest to Bangi, where we had numerous jaunts and ate ‘sate’ or grilled bite-size pieces of chicken on sticks with yummy peanut sauce. Walkabouts on the grounds of the then Agriculture University in Serdang. Shelling peanuts and watching movies at 4^th mile Jalan Ipoh. And, the night my mum and I stayed in Bangsar before attending my graduation with brother number 1.

Old memories, rekindled and revisited, thanks to old friends.