It was a very long time ago that I was a ten year-old boy. Certainly it was more than 20 years back. But there are some very vivid memories, even unresolved issues and experiences I had, which have lasted with me until today.

Of my most vivid ten-year-old experiences, there is one which I wouldn't call painful or hurting; it is just one that has kept me extremely curious and therefore remained unresolved. At least until a short moment ago.

You see, I was a boyscout when I was in the primary school. I know, I know, looking at me today, you wouldn't believe that I was once a boyscout. But I was, sincerely! And on one particular day during the holidays, we were tasked to pair up among our boyscout friends who lived around our residential areas and go around doing odd jobs together. The allowances we received from those odd jobs would contribute to the funding of the boyscouts, obviously.

So there was this friend of mine, a year older than me or so, who lived in the housing area next to mine. We had made an arrangement for him to come over to my house on that particular day just after lunch, and we were supposed to begin going around doing our odd jobs together until evening. If I'm not mistaken, it was a Saturday afternoon.

He never turned up. There I was, sitting at the verandah of my house all afternoon, waiting for him to turn up. I never got an answer as to why he never turned up, and his failure to turn up kept me wondering perennially as to what had actually happened. I did not have his house telephone number, and mobile phones we not used during those days (did they even exist then?)

To make things worse, I never got a chance to meet with this friend again, as the next thing I heard about him was that he had been transferred somewhere else because of his father's job. All these years, I never got an opportunity to meet with him, let alone have an answer to what had actually happened on that day. I had been in my scout's uniform awaiting his arrival all afternoon and he never turned up. Not only was I disappointed; I was extremely puzzled.

All these years, I had absolutely no idea where this childhood friend of mine had disappeared to. There had been no news of him and no connections with any other people who might be in touch with him. But I've often still wondered, with that same old puzzled feeling, what had actually happened that afternoon when I was all dressed in my scouts uniform waiting to go around doing odd jobs. In fact, my neighbour who had offered me the first odd job for the day (i.e. washing his old white car), was also waiting. It never got done.

Tonight, I suddenly managed to get connected with this long lost friend of mine by some sheer miracle called Facebook. We've both grown much older, of course. He remembered me. Now, if I had brought this matter up to him, I'm absolutely sure he'd find this strange, since he'd most likely have no recollection of this event whatsoever.

But strangely, after the brief chat and exchange of phone numbers with him, I suddenly realise that this puzzled feeling which has remained with me for more than 20 years has disappeared. And I feel a strong sense of relief. He's safe, and he's doing very well in life. That's all that matters.

It's quite a mystery how the impact of certain events from our childhood remain with us for the rest of our lives, how we remember with fondness and nostalgia the minute details which might have absolutely no meaning to anyone else.

I've waited for this moment, not just for an afternoon, but for over 20 years. 23 years, to be exact. It was a long wait. And well worth it. I still don't have my answer, but it's all right; maybe it wasn't an answer I was looking for.