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Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Generation Desk

When I was a child, I used to see my grandma (Khin Myo Chit - writer) typing or writing at her beautiful desk. The desk was made by wood, well-polished, and it seemed shined through my eyes. I did not know where it came from. It seemed very expensive at that time. My grandma valued the desk so much. I did not want to be a busy writer like her, but I wanted to be a very important person in the family, and wanted to use the desk as she did.


(Grandma sat at the desk, and always busy.)

Grandma showed me a black and white photo one day. We, twins, her beloved grandchildren were seated by her while she was working. I was sitting on her, and pretending to type. My twin brother was on her desk. The typewriter was she always used until she owned an electronic typewriter that her son (our father) bought from England.


(One day, grandma showed me a B/W photo.)

Grandma suffered her arthritic pain since we were young, and she could not type properly by her hands with the old one. That’s why her son bought an electric typewriter when he went to England for his work in 1980. We all were happy to see grandma was typing with a brand new one. It was quicker, and lighter. She did not need to type the keys hard. We always heard the sound of her typing although it was less noisy than the old typewriter. (We still kept the electric typewriter although it was damaged.)


(Grandma with her electric typewriter. Grandma's desk was so attractive, and it played a very important role of great writer's life.)

When I was at school, I wanted to do my homework at grandma’ desk. But I noticed grandma was always busy at her desk. I had little chance to sit, and do my homework there. If I had a chance, I ran and sat at the desk. I waited to see her reaction. I had no intention to sit and work like her. Whenever I was doing like that, she said, ‘ Hey! Do you know the responsibility of sitting at my desk! It’s not funny, my dear.’ I did not know how to reply. I thought she did not like what I was doing. But I did not care. I always did whenever the desk was free.


(Whenever I sit at my grandma’s desk, I still hear her voice…..‘…’ I miss you, my dear grandma.)

Now the desk was going to the family’s hand after my grandma passed away. We all used it together. It was placed at the front room, and all could see it well, and its color still glowing. Her family still used it, and we valued it from the bottom of our heart.

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