It is raining heavily out there...complete with thunders and lightnings.
I'm in my room. Resting.
Earlier in the day, I had lunch with my Chinaman (really hope he quit eating pork one day), and borrowed his suitcase. That suitcase had accompanied me to all sorts of places around the world.
After that I went to see my little brother.
My little brother is okay today. Took him out, bought him a pizza meal and then we went for a movie. Hotel Transylvania.
Not really a good cartoon movie, but my brother seems to enjoy it. So, I'm fine with it too.
Whenever I'm with him on his okay days, my brother always talks about our past, when we were kids, when our parents were still alive, and when he was not yet afflicted by his ailment.
Yes, I remember all that. How cute was my little brother when he was a toddler. How we played together and ran along the drain at the bottom of the ravine in front of our barrack home.
And when I went to that boarding school in Seremban, he was always happy when I came home for term breaks. At night, I would tell him and my other siblings bed time stories about the free movies that I watched at school. We can't afford to go to cinema at that time.
My little brother said those were the best times of his life. Our family was poor then but we were happy, and with not much care in the world.
My little brother is a proper boy and brilliant student back then. He was 10 times smarter than me before he broke down with his ailment. He would have been such an excellent engineer if not for it.
He would have been a good family man too.
But I always believe that Allah is fair. I believe that my little brother will have his shares of future happiness in other ways, insyaAllah.