Paint is such a strange thing. There are so many kinds of it. Water colours, acrylic paint, oil paints. Of course, when we (as adults OR young adults) think about paint, it's usually that smelly sticky stuff you smear either on your whatever, or people smear on your car, etc.
Being the craziest in the family, I recently sparked off a chain of painting craze.
It must have been 4 years ago since my father started chanting that he wanted to paint the house. Every year, he said we would paint in December. Every year December passed by quickly, sometimes in a chilly, busy manner. Too cold, too busy, too lazy. This year, I happened to know of a boy who prefers staying home, and so I thought of painting my room, as a project to do together. Of course, the yellow patches in my room was already driving me nuts. The place looked old and dirty, and inhabitable. My light buzzed when I switched it on. And dust was piling up.
"Pa, I want to paint my room. Can I?" "Paint lah! Aiyah, why ask? We will buy the paint now. Let's go."
It was decidedly whitish blue. Instead of yellow, which my father had something against.
Cut the long story short, I invited the boy over to paint my room. And my family fed him lots, and thanked him for helping all of us. The black-swan event (a totally unexpected event) was my closest aunt visiting. That aunt invited the boy for dinner at her house once, 5 months ago. And she saw us painting. She exclaimed, "Wah, I also want to paint my house. Ask him over to help leh!" I just smiled.
It did happened (unfortunately). He was summoned to paint. And all my brothers went over too. The house which I grew up in, as it was around since my birth, had not been painted for 18 years. He very nicely took leave off his job just to paint my aunt's house. The deal was the living room. It extended to her bedroom, then her bedroom door, then her bedroom toilet door, then another room door, then another room door. I felt bad asking the boy over to do so much manual labour, but his cheery disposition made me less guilt-stricken.
*I did give him a choice. I didn't drag him by the collar to paint.
Anyway, he was fed lots of food, and he found the dynamics of my family (this time, extended family) fascinating. I thought it was also a good time where he and I saw each other in front of many other people. He was quieter, I was chatty like I always was, obviously because I know them. I'm really thankful, and glad he rendered his service.
This morning, my father was talking about painting the living room. My brother booked me last week for painting his room this Tuesday. And I found out my father has never painted (well, not very much, except the toilet ceiling).
The boy had become the master painter during the second painting job. He was also encouraging towards my brothers, which I was pleased about. Very pleased. Extremely pleased. (I love my brothers lots, in a kind of band-of-brothers love.)
My mother often tells me to ask him over for meals. Last night, she mentioned that the boy reminds her of my father when she was dating. Oh my. Is that a kind of hint??!
I started painting because that boy didn't embrace adventures like myself, to roam, travel, climb, explore, sweat, as much. (He isn't the strawberry generation, he's just the home-keeper of sorts.)
I do wonder how things would turn out. Or if I would take after my mother. Or if I've taken after my father. But whatever. If I get a baby anytime in the next 18 years (which is a long time), he/she would see that coat of paint, and a story behind it lays.
The boy was also very sincere, ernest, helpful, polite, and modest. And of course, skilled, by now. Ziyang, Zijie, Tze-nien, Zhihao can all set up a company to paint. $200-$250 per person. Hey, that's not bad a deal! Cheaper than market rate.
