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The title deeds to TP.

This is a moment that calls for pause. To savour it. The deeds to my first home, in my hands. Almost ten years to the day I bought it.

I remember walking around the boxes, scattered all over the dilapidated and dimly-lit flat, avoiding a cage with a rat trapped in it, and mentally calculating whether I could bring the renovations in under my budget. I remember steeling my nerves to call the agent and negotiating the purchase price. I remember being shocked at closing the deal so quickly, with a stab of fear over whether I had made the right decision. I remember the excitement of collecting the keys and bringing J over to look at what would be my home.

This brings up so much emotions in me.

Looking at this now reminds me of the "me" then. I remember standing at one end of the tunnel, and wondering how far the light at the other end of it would be. Eleven years was a long time to be committed, for a commitment-phobe. I saw myself growing old in that slowly gentrifying neighbourhood, in my little home with the high ceilings and a backyard full of plants.

Somewhere along the way, the dream got postponed, revised, refreshed, exchanged, extended. Sacrifices were made. Others were delegated the task of looking after my "home". Other "retirement homes" joined the fray. More revisions to the dream. The light at the end of the tunnel just seemed to keep moving back, away from me.

As things turned out, I decided last year that it was time to start getting the monkey off my back. The good times might be ending soon. Need to remove shackles fast.

Today, I look at this "kiam chye" in my hands, and wonder about the journey that had brought me here. A decade of change and adventure. My home, in my hands. Finally.