The Tie

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Last night, just after I completed my isyak prayers, Nazzim came into the room with his new school tie.

“Papa, could you teach me how to tie a tie?” (Is that the right word?)

“Sure”, I said, “let me get one of my ties.”

“Alright, let’s see, the long wide end should be on the right, hang it right down to just over your right knee.”

“It depends on thickness of tie, you might have to let it hang a bit lower if the tie is made of thicker material. Loop it to the back and bring it back on top. Then bring it back up, over and under from right to left…….”

Sounded like we were playing a game of rugby.

“Papa, you look like Fred Flintstone”, said Nazzim delightedly.

I sure do, in my sarong and with a tie. I looked into the mirror and both of us laughed at Mr. Flintstone.

“Well, you’re not so hot yourself, you look like Bamm-Bamm.”

As he went to bed, he asked me if could I help him again in the morning.

"Gladly", I said.

Come this morning, I asked him if he still needs my help, seeing how his tie looked screwy all of last night.

“No, I’m fine, I could do it now”.

And he actually could.

That would be a peek of what things will be in the future. He won’t need my help as much as he used to. Lesser and lesser and then one day, next to nothing except maybe an old man’s advice on a thing or two. Just to assure himself, nothing more. I was a bit sad. Last week, after I sent him into the motivational class that my employer offered to employees’ children, I hanged around a bit too long and he said, “You can go now, Papa.”

Lessons learned last night, never knot a tie over bare skin, melecet leher, hard on the skin. It’s hard to teach someone how to knot a tie, we take doing such things for granted.

And finally, ties are good news, it means that my son is growing up. I’ll miss the small boy that we had for such a short time.

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