What possession does your family treasure?: Baan Thra Phra

Baan Thra Phra

This one possession of ours has been in my family for over sixty years. It could easily sell for millions today, yet it is priceless. It brings us together, yet it has caused endless family drama and estrangements. This possession is our property in Bangkok.

At the entrance stands large gates with a fence that surrounds the (insert area when I remember to ask my mom)sqft of property. I always hated opening up the gates. They were heavy, and the locks needed to be clicked just right. The gate leads to a driveway, scattered by plumerias— my favorite flower as it reminds me of this house. We park our cars next to a small garden, where stood a sandbox that I frequented as a kid. Before the front entrance of the house itself is a bricked walkway, covered by trees. The bricks have become uneven, and it’s a common sight to see me trip over them. 

To the right is a grass lawn. There used to be a swing set, but I don’t remember when it was gone. To the left are more trees, a koi fish pond, a blue cage, and probably a bunch of snakes. The blue cage changes purpose every time I go. When I was younger, it was a beetle cage for my cousin. At some point, it housed butterflies. Next, we kept chickens and collected their eggs— up until the snakes ate them. With the abundance of trees and Thailand’s humid climate, snakes are a common sight. My mom always says “I live here, you (the snakes) live there.”

The main house itself is old. It’s spacious— much bigger than my house in the States— but the antiques collected over the years have cluttered it: family photos, porcelain plates, old books, the list goes on. My mom and her sister inherited the house. My mom wants to renovate it, but my aunt disagrees with her ideas. I only eye roll when they start arguing for the hundredth time. Other than that, they get along, and my aunt is happy whenever my mom is home. They also have a younger brother who sold his inheritance to them. Those three shouldn’t be left in a room together or else a war might start. One time, a couple years back, for about a minute, all three were in the house— the house they grew up in. Everyone else held their breath, as the tension pierced the air. Across the room, my cousin gave me the let’s not be like that look.

My great-grandpa bought the property in the 19??s. In those days, there was not much around, aside from fields of grass. Now, the property finds itself in a busy area of Bangkok, near three subway stations, making it well sought-after. Companies have offered us an unimaginable amount of money. But they wouldn’t just be taking away a house. They would be taking away the home of four generations and the countless memories made here. How can one put a sum of money on something so priceless?

The future of this property will eventually fall into my hands, and I swore to never let anything happen to it. I grew up here. So did my mom. So did her dad. Our bloodline runs through the trees and the plumerias, our voices trapped within the antique picture frame of the different generations, and our memories are found in the walls and ceilings.

My family calls it Baan Thra Phra. Baan means “house” in Thai. There is a canal and a temple nearby. Long ago, the monks would use the canal to travel. Thra means port, and Phra means monk. House port monk. Baan Thra Phra. I call it home.

QUESTIONS FOR READERS:

- Where can i reflect more? I know a lot of it is narrative so which parts do you want to hear more reflection of?

- I tend to leans towards a formal and serious tone. Where or how should I change this?