I consider my nieces as daughters. I share their laughter and joy. I also cry with them whenever they have to. My shoulders are always there for them to lean on. Being an aunty is like being a mother. I give advice and keep their secrets. But, most times, those secrets are the sources of our laughter in their later life. The memories that I share with them is incomparable to none especially they grew up by my side. I have many nieces, and I love them all. Even now, I try to spend time with them as much as I could. Albeit, most of them live in different parts of the world, getting in touch is as easy as pressing the button. That is the beauty of the modern technology. However, it is still not the same when you bond face to face. I am one lucky aunt that I was able to spend the time with my nieces since they were babies. I changed their nappies; sang them lullabies and even created that baby words. We played in the park; shopped together and even ate on the one plate. The happiness I got with my nieces were incredible. The children of my siblings become part of my inspirations. We have great memories and we keep on creating more. Toni-Marie grew up with me. She is also my godchild and the only godmother she has. We have the bonding like mother and daughter. People who don’t know me thought that Toni is my daughter. She was always with me before I got married. And when I gave birth to my children, Toni was always there. She became like an older sister to my babies. Today is Toni’s special day. I made this poem especially for the cutest baby whom I cradled and loved so very much. To all the aunties and nieces, may your bonding and friendship become each other’s inspiration.
Category Archives: aunty
VICTORIO
Today is Father’s Day in Australia. HAPPY FATHER’S DAY! Dad does not necessarily apply only to the natural parents. It also applies to the mothers, uncles, brothers and sisters who look after a child in the absence of the biological father for all sorts of reason. Many years ago, the heaven called my dad. I can still recall the saddest moment in my life when I held my father in my arms for the very last time. My dad’s name is Victorio, and many people fondly called him Victor. But, my mother called him Ling. When I was young, I did not have any idea what was the meaning of Ling. I later found out that it meant darling. The great memories of my father, I will cherish and treasure. I can clearly recollect how he taught me; counting my fingers and my toes. He was the first one to teach me how to write my name whilst my mother sat beside watching my fingers moving. My parents were loving and kind. And they were always together; going out of the house to go to work; going to church, cinema, vacation and the lot. It was a big blow to my mum when dad got sick and eventually did not recover. However, as the days passed, it was me who actually could not move forward about the passing of my father. And mum, thoroughly was aware of it. That was the time that she told me to be strong. That when a person is already in heaven, you want him to rest in peace. And my dad will watch over the family and me.