When I was five years old, one day, I came back home from kindergarten with my mother and little brother as usual. As we walked into our tiny half-dilapidated apartment, however, there was an air of excitement between my mother and brother. My brother in particular was skipping and bouncing as he led me to the main room through the kitchen.
“So? Are you going to show her the surprise?” My mother said to him from the kitchen as she placed down her bags on the table.
“What is it?” I asked, feeling puzzled. I didn’t remember any special thing happening that day. “Is there anything special?”
In the main room, right adjacent to the kitchen, there was a family sofa. It was no fancy and as hard as a rock, but it was appreciated as our largest piece of furniture in the house. My mother used to cover it with a cotton quilt.
That day, as I entered the main room, I noticed that the colour of the cotton quilt was different from the one I remembered from the morning.
My mother and brother both waived their hands to showcase the new sofa cover.
“Wow,” I said, surprised by the new colourful sofa cover in front of me. “A new sofa cover!”
That was it. That was the reason for the excitement between my mother and brother that day. They had been looking forward to showing me this new sofa cover. Seeing my surprised face, my brother looked satisfied. He and I both jumped around the sofa saying that it was a brand new sofa cover until my mother called us for our snacks.