what did you do on last saturday afternoon? strolled down air-conditioned hallways of shopping malls? sipped on a fine cup of tea, with a rich chocolate cake by the side? or slept late until your grumbling stomach woke you up?
well, i spent mine tumbling down the stairs of istana budaya. like jill, but there was no jack at the bottom of the hill to break my fall. not a hobby of mine, this tumbling down stairs business though i don't think anybody asked me beforehand if i liked it before buttery feet caused my downfall, literally.
people usually has frame by frame memory of incidents like these where they can tell you exactly what went wrong one frame at a time. me, my mind was a blur - as usual. i can't remember how i fell and why i fell. all i know is i fell, like a huge sack of potato, right where a huge group was gathered, waiting for intermission time to be over. embarrasment maximus. didn't help that my dress was short. nothing was exposed though. at least, i think nothing was.
a young man who was walking past with his girlfriend stopped and enquired if i was alright. a most unexpected display of gentlemanly act. in a whole room of apparently sophisticated, well dressed people, at the very least one person in the crowd had a heart. the rare breed of a gentleman, even if he did nothing more than just enquire.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
fret is what it is all about
at 11, when there's no one infatuated with her, you fret. hey! my daughter's the nicest, prettiest, most kindest girl i know of that age, even if i do say so myself. what's wrong with the guys of her peers?! then, when there are people infatuated with her, you fret also. the definition of motherhood, the job scope of mothers, apparently, is to fret. fret when they do, fret when they don't. fret when they are not pretty enough, fret when they are too pretty. how maniac when compared to fathers' bah humbug attitudes. men have it good. i'll like to see their faces when their daughters finally bring boys home to meet their good ole' dads.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
que sera sera
today, i learnt the lesson of letting things be. que sera sera.
when you want something so badly, when you feel that only that will do and nothing else, life can be quite intense, disappointing even. it is almost like you can feel the taste of it on the tip of your tongue. your thoughts are geared up towards that one possibility and you want your hands on it. it almost always will never be fulfilled.
i learnt to let go. the world is so big, the permutations endless. what you want now looks to be the best, but who is to know what is in the future. the moment i realise that, the moment i left it to fate, life got a little easier.
when you want something so badly, when you feel that only that will do and nothing else, life can be quite intense, disappointing even. it is almost like you can feel the taste of it on the tip of your tongue. your thoughts are geared up towards that one possibility and you want your hands on it. it almost always will never be fulfilled.
i learnt to let go. the world is so big, the permutations endless. what you want now looks to be the best, but who is to know what is in the future. the moment i realise that, the moment i left it to fate, life got a little easier.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
late one night
we were doing our best imitation of couch potatoes that night, laid out infront of the television, absorbed in the scene unfolding before our eyes, like we do every night. the kidnapper in the plot sat down in a chair opposite the victim, and handed over a can of coffee, something so random that even the victim looked surprised.
little princess asked, 'why did he feed him?'
little batman, without skipping a beat, quipped, 'to fatten him up. so that he can eat him'.
a little too much fairy tale i think, not that he reads them anymore. that is my son, and one of the many reasons i love him so. his sense of humour is delightful, and so random.
little princess asked, 'why did he feed him?'
little batman, without skipping a beat, quipped, 'to fatten him up. so that he can eat him'.
a little too much fairy tale i think, not that he reads them anymore. that is my son, and one of the many reasons i love him so. his sense of humour is delightful, and so random.
Monday, May 03, 2010
one hot summer night
i sit. i ponder, and i wonder at the me that is still very much a little girl at heart, despite getting very much on with age. little things very easily pleases me and many things bring a frown to my face, so transparent, so simple.
one hot summer night i received a text message, asking if i would give some recommendations of good eateries to a close friend's niece who was visiting the country, a young lady whom i have never met. someone whose name i didn't know, someone whose face i have never met. someone whose childhood photo has been lying in my album for the last 2 decades. call it fate. call it destiny.
we caught up the next day for dinner. she was a very agreeable person, easy to get along with, pleasant on the eyes, with a familiarity i cannot identify. perhaps this is what is known as fate. we swept the streets of ss2's hawker stalls, covering most, if not all, of the local cuisines. we met again a few days later, for a japanese lunch and a last minute bout of souvenier shoppings, followed by korean dinner before she is zoomed off to the airport. what was suppose to be just another customary list of good places to eat turned out to be lots of laughters and relaxing conversations . the dozen of years between us melted away like the ice that was broken on first sight. i took a photo of us, to record down what my memory sometimes fail to. 19 years ago when i first heard of her, she was 8. she didn't knew i existed. 19 years later, she's 28 and we meet for the first time, my son is 9. nineteen years later, she will be me, and my son will be her. it will be interesting to meet once more. we part ways with a hug, no promise of ever meeting again. there was no need to. we all live in the present, why taint it with false promises of the future.
the next day, i searched for her name on the facebook. i found her. my finger hovered over the mouse, but after a moment of hesitation, i closed the page. i didn't add her to my friend list. why?, the little ones asked. how do i explain? one thing that i have learnt during my long trek of life's path, people may not always mirror your feelings. she had never for one single moment asked the names of my children. should i not have taken offence at this simple, yet eloquent gesture? actually, i did not. one of my greatest fault perhaps, besides a million others, have always been more trusting and passionate than i should have. it is one thing to spend a few days laughing, eating and chatting but it is another to label that as friendship. i do, but does she? she never once asked about what i do for work, nor any other details about my family, my past, my present, nor my future whilst i plied questions by the truckful. i could be just another good summer vacation; fun whilst it lasted but lost in a sea of other memories. i used to think that sincerity breeds warmth and genuineness but i've had so many doors slammed in my faces over the years, i don't know what is correct anymore. i am contented to be just another good memory.
several days later, i received an invitation to befriend her in facebook. that brought a smile to my face. it has not been for nothing. sometimes, when life disillusions you as it often does, it's gratifying to have affirmation that there is some sincerity left in the world. when you open up and give, it is received. and that was how we became friends. a 39-year-old and a 27-year-old.
one hot summer night i received a text message, asking if i would give some recommendations of good eateries to a close friend's niece who was visiting the country, a young lady whom i have never met. someone whose name i didn't know, someone whose face i have never met. someone whose childhood photo has been lying in my album for the last 2 decades. call it fate. call it destiny.
we caught up the next day for dinner. she was a very agreeable person, easy to get along with, pleasant on the eyes, with a familiarity i cannot identify. perhaps this is what is known as fate. we swept the streets of ss2's hawker stalls, covering most, if not all, of the local cuisines. we met again a few days later, for a japanese lunch and a last minute bout of souvenier shoppings, followed by korean dinner before she is zoomed off to the airport. what was suppose to be just another customary list of good places to eat turned out to be lots of laughters and relaxing conversations . the dozen of years between us melted away like the ice that was broken on first sight. i took a photo of us, to record down what my memory sometimes fail to. 19 years ago when i first heard of her, she was 8. she didn't knew i existed. 19 years later, she's 28 and we meet for the first time, my son is 9. nineteen years later, she will be me, and my son will be her. it will be interesting to meet once more. we part ways with a hug, no promise of ever meeting again. there was no need to. we all live in the present, why taint it with false promises of the future.
the next day, i searched for her name on the facebook. i found her. my finger hovered over the mouse, but after a moment of hesitation, i closed the page. i didn't add her to my friend list. why?, the little ones asked. how do i explain? one thing that i have learnt during my long trek of life's path, people may not always mirror your feelings. she had never for one single moment asked the names of my children. should i not have taken offence at this simple, yet eloquent gesture? actually, i did not. one of my greatest fault perhaps, besides a million others, have always been more trusting and passionate than i should have. it is one thing to spend a few days laughing, eating and chatting but it is another to label that as friendship. i do, but does she? she never once asked about what i do for work, nor any other details about my family, my past, my present, nor my future whilst i plied questions by the truckful. i could be just another good summer vacation; fun whilst it lasted but lost in a sea of other memories. i used to think that sincerity breeds warmth and genuineness but i've had so many doors slammed in my faces over the years, i don't know what is correct anymore. i am contented to be just another good memory.
several days later, i received an invitation to befriend her in facebook. that brought a smile to my face. it has not been for nothing. sometimes, when life disillusions you as it often does, it's gratifying to have affirmation that there is some sincerity left in the world. when you open up and give, it is received. and that was how we became friends. a 39-year-old and a 27-year-old.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
without truth, what else is there?
weary.
weary because human interactions are so complicated, so manipulative, so shallow.
weary because people insist on tainting their characters with lies.
it is so easy to distrust, to face each and every with skepticism in my eyes, shoulders squared cold and hard for the onslaught of more deceit. yet i chose the difficult path to walk, i chose to have faith, to believe in sincerity and the goodness in people, naive as that may seem, difficult as it may be. when i listen, i believe. when i hear, i trust. but when i least expect it, in the most innocent of circumstances, i am once again deluded. still, i insist on believing, even when this convoluted life doesn't permit so. i do not have any choice, it is the only way to live.
the phone rang at 8.45pm. it was the mother of little princess' classmate. did i know that my daughter was stuffed in an overloaded car along with 10 other people to their dinner venue just a few minutes ago? nooooooo, i didn't know that. did i know that they were just stopped by the police? the jaw dropped to the floor. noooooooo, i didn't know that. did i know that they were roaming the mall in the afternoon, instead of hanging out at the house as they should be? noooooo, i didn't know that either. she went on to moan and wail about how late it was, how irresponsible the chaperon was, how unsafe our children were. she wanted me to reprimand the guardian. she wanted me to call her and let her know that everything must wind up by 9.45. she wanted a lot of things, all of which she didn't want to dirty her own hands doing. instead, she wanted me to do the running for her. i listened. i acknowledged. i counselled. but i can't call someone up and berate her just because someone else wanted me to.
when little princess was back, i confirmed the facts with her. did she sit in a car with 10 other people? yes. were they stopped by the police? no. did they roam the mall in the afternoon? no. something so simple, something so innocent, children hanging out at each other's place. why did one felt the need to turn it into something ugly, i cannot grasp. bringing up a child is hard enough, tying apron strings, loosening apron strings, dealing with empty nests. other mothers should commiserate, not complicate. knowing in her heart that the truth will be easily confirmed, she insisted on lying to get her way. lies that are so shallow and unskillful, what is the purpose? what goes on in her mind, i don't think i will be able to understand.
my daughter is 11, by the way. it is going to be a very long hair-wrenching ride for me all the way to her adulthood.
weary because human interactions are so complicated, so manipulative, so shallow.
weary because people insist on tainting their characters with lies.
it is so easy to distrust, to face each and every with skepticism in my eyes, shoulders squared cold and hard for the onslaught of more deceit. yet i chose the difficult path to walk, i chose to have faith, to believe in sincerity and the goodness in people, naive as that may seem, difficult as it may be. when i listen, i believe. when i hear, i trust. but when i least expect it, in the most innocent of circumstances, i am once again deluded. still, i insist on believing, even when this convoluted life doesn't permit so. i do not have any choice, it is the only way to live.
the phone rang at 8.45pm. it was the mother of little princess' classmate. did i know that my daughter was stuffed in an overloaded car along with 10 other people to their dinner venue just a few minutes ago? nooooooo, i didn't know that. did i know that they were just stopped by the police? the jaw dropped to the floor. noooooooo, i didn't know that. did i know that they were roaming the mall in the afternoon, instead of hanging out at the house as they should be? noooooo, i didn't know that either. she went on to moan and wail about how late it was, how irresponsible the chaperon was, how unsafe our children were. she wanted me to reprimand the guardian. she wanted me to call her and let her know that everything must wind up by 9.45. she wanted a lot of things, all of which she didn't want to dirty her own hands doing. instead, she wanted me to do the running for her. i listened. i acknowledged. i counselled. but i can't call someone up and berate her just because someone else wanted me to.
when little princess was back, i confirmed the facts with her. did she sit in a car with 10 other people? yes. were they stopped by the police? no. did they roam the mall in the afternoon? no. something so simple, something so innocent, children hanging out at each other's place. why did one felt the need to turn it into something ugly, i cannot grasp. bringing up a child is hard enough, tying apron strings, loosening apron strings, dealing with empty nests. other mothers should commiserate, not complicate. knowing in her heart that the truth will be easily confirmed, she insisted on lying to get her way. lies that are so shallow and unskillful, what is the purpose? what goes on in her mind, i don't think i will be able to understand.
my daughter is 11, by the way. it is going to be a very long hair-wrenching ride for me all the way to her adulthood.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
any other name
was just idling around, catching a glimpse of the headlines on the stack of newspaper at the local petrol station as the man was guzzling black gold into his car. i was waiting for the cashier to close the bill when a man in uniform wandered past. good morning, he greeted in a cantonese dialect. the language was so familiar. he is dark-skinned, is he chinese? it is so hard to tell nowadays when the cantonese dialect is so prevalent. i peered at him. whatever. good morning, i returned enthusiastically.
he hung around, sorting the stack of newspapers. not going out on a weekend? huh? hello, get back to your sorting, noyb (none of your business). of course, that came out as putting petrol, aren't i?. that was already sarcastic mode in check. you never know who will whip out a machette behind their back nowadays and chop you to pieces for simply saying the wrong words. i was indirectly telling him to get off my case. i don't think he got it. do you stay around here? fair enough question still, i guess, asking if someone lives around the vicinity of the petrol station they are patronising. uh huh. eventhough i do not. ha! that's one for me, blockhead. small insignificant victory, but still that guy was beginning to get on my nerves.
so, what's your name? waitaminit, how is that related to filling petrol again? quick, brain! give me a comeback! i'm not about to give my name to this stalker! my brain was a blank. uh huh. how lame was that? when in doubt, always fake ignorance. see? i don't understand what you are trying to ask me. i was then rescued by the bell, or in this case, the cashier. bill done. sign and ready to leave. that man was still lingering around. i turned to leave. the man's car was no longer parked at pump no. 5. he drove up beside me. hey melissa! thanks a lot, hubby of mine. mr. weirdo now has my name. next time i go to that petrol station, i better go incognito with big sunglasses, cap and all.
by the way, in case you are wondering, that's not my real name. why do you want to know my name,? are you a stalker or something?!
he hung around, sorting the stack of newspapers. not going out on a weekend? huh? hello, get back to your sorting, noyb (none of your business). of course, that came out as putting petrol, aren't i?. that was already sarcastic mode in check. you never know who will whip out a machette behind their back nowadays and chop you to pieces for simply saying the wrong words. i was indirectly telling him to get off my case. i don't think he got it. do you stay around here? fair enough question still, i guess, asking if someone lives around the vicinity of the petrol station they are patronising. uh huh. eventhough i do not. ha! that's one for me, blockhead. small insignificant victory, but still that guy was beginning to get on my nerves.
so, what's your name? waitaminit, how is that related to filling petrol again? quick, brain! give me a comeback! i'm not about to give my name to this stalker! my brain was a blank. uh huh. how lame was that? when in doubt, always fake ignorance. see? i don't understand what you are trying to ask me. i was then rescued by the bell, or in this case, the cashier. bill done. sign and ready to leave. that man was still lingering around. i turned to leave. the man's car was no longer parked at pump no. 5. he drove up beside me. hey melissa! thanks a lot, hubby of mine. mr. weirdo now has my name. next time i go to that petrol station, i better go incognito with big sunglasses, cap and all.
by the way, in case you are wondering, that's not my real name. why do you want to know my name,? are you a stalker or something?!
Friday, April 16, 2010
an act of destruction
that little twerp punched me in the nose. so, ok, it wasn't a full blown punch like pomp, arrrrgggghhhh, falling to the floor, bleeding nose and stuff, but he still raised his hand, like the un-gentleman that he is, and punched me on the nose. all because of a little humour and a gibe, which we trade on ends everyday anyway. the last time someone punched me on the nose was when i was 11. if my parents knew then that i came home with bloody nose, i don't think they would have been that comfortable with sending me away for education. ignorance is indeed bliss. hmmm, maybe that is why i have such a stubby nose. will suing for compensation 28 years later be too late, you think?
anyway, back to the story. he is technically an adult, though not quite in the mental department perhaps. a young adult. perhaps that was his version of humour. still, someone has to teach him that it is wrong to raise his hands in violence. i blame his parents more, his grandparents even, for not educating him in what is right and what is wrong, for turning the other eye. if i was sure i will not be thrashed myself, i would have hunted for my nearest cane and whipped that young man, if only to tell him that it is not acceptable to punch your aunty. but violence begets violence, and that is not another thing i wanted to teach him. ahem *coward*. it was all i could do to hold my temper, and hands itching to cane that little twerp, in check.
what is perhaps more frustrating is the attitude of those around him. their ears only ever perk up when he does something right, and falls deaf for some strange reason when he misbehaves. scientists around the world would have given a hand and a leg to understand the selective listening aptitude of certain species in our world. for that matter, so would i, but that is more in relation to my strangely selective listening partner in life. i am digressing.
that is the problem of parents, and grandparents the world over. that is the problem with modern parenting. i don't know when, i don't know why and i most certainly don't know how parents came to feel that they owe so much to their children. when a plate of food is laid on the table, parents encourage their children to be the first to taste the spoils, to grab at the food and pick it over even before the elderly lay their eyes on it. didn't moral education taught us that we should respect the grandparents, the aged? actually, i was never taught so either. maybe that is where the crack started. how do you teach something that you have never been taught? but teach we still do, despite being a hypocrite. because it is the right thing to impart. we climb over ourselves to protect our children, to give them the best, to be there for them. we didn't spare a moment to teach them to respect us, to care for us in return, to be a responsible and giving adult, to honour the patriarch and matriarch of the family. when we are old and grey, when we are weak, who are we to blame when they prioritise their children over us? when they give the best to their offsprings and leave the bishop nose, the chicken neck for us, the aged, the grandparents? what can we say when they throw us out of the house, just so little junior can have a room for himself?
it is not altruistic of parent to place their children as first priority. it is not an act of love. it is an act of destruction.
anyway, back to the story. he is technically an adult, though not quite in the mental department perhaps. a young adult. perhaps that was his version of humour. still, someone has to teach him that it is wrong to raise his hands in violence. i blame his parents more, his grandparents even, for not educating him in what is right and what is wrong, for turning the other eye. if i was sure i will not be thrashed myself, i would have hunted for my nearest cane and whipped that young man, if only to tell him that it is not acceptable to punch your aunty. but violence begets violence, and that is not another thing i wanted to teach him. ahem *coward*. it was all i could do to hold my temper, and hands itching to cane that little twerp, in check.
what is perhaps more frustrating is the attitude of those around him. their ears only ever perk up when he does something right, and falls deaf for some strange reason when he misbehaves. scientists around the world would have given a hand and a leg to understand the selective listening aptitude of certain species in our world. for that matter, so would i, but that is more in relation to my strangely selective listening partner in life. i am digressing.
that is the problem of parents, and grandparents the world over. that is the problem with modern parenting. i don't know when, i don't know why and i most certainly don't know how parents came to feel that they owe so much to their children. when a plate of food is laid on the table, parents encourage their children to be the first to taste the spoils, to grab at the food and pick it over even before the elderly lay their eyes on it. didn't moral education taught us that we should respect the grandparents, the aged? actually, i was never taught so either. maybe that is where the crack started. how do you teach something that you have never been taught? but teach we still do, despite being a hypocrite. because it is the right thing to impart. we climb over ourselves to protect our children, to give them the best, to be there for them. we didn't spare a moment to teach them to respect us, to care for us in return, to be a responsible and giving adult, to honour the patriarch and matriarch of the family. when we are old and grey, when we are weak, who are we to blame when they prioritise their children over us? when they give the best to their offsprings and leave the bishop nose, the chicken neck for us, the aged, the grandparents? what can we say when they throw us out of the house, just so little junior can have a room for himself?
it is not altruistic of parent to place their children as first priority. it is not an act of love. it is an act of destruction.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
he ain't heavy, he's my bro
my bro marked his presence in my room by giving me the biggest fright of the day. he has never heard of the art of making his presence heard before his voice booms into an empty quiet room. like noisy stamping footsteps for example, to prevent the sudden heart failure and incidental death of your sibling, you understand.
been looking for you since morning. where have i been?? my butt has been glued to this chair since the cock crowed. he threw a bunch of papers down on my table. i can give you these since they are no longer in conflict of interest. technical data on u.s. trade results, figures obtainable anywhere on the internet, if you care to look for it, that is. conflict of interest? my bro doesn't work in the central bank, american embassy and anything remotely connected to the monetary industry. what conflict of interest? you working secretly in the central bank? apparently, conflict of interest to his own personal judgement. i can't even figure that one out. my bro is one tough cookie to understand. he lets off a string of technical data on u.s. trade results. you see...this is not in line with this....and look at this...... sigh, if i tell him i trade in currencies on my whim, on my mood of the moment, i think he will grasp at his heart and collapse. the sheer absurdity that is his sister.
been looking for you since morning. where have i been?? my butt has been glued to this chair since the cock crowed. he threw a bunch of papers down on my table. i can give you these since they are no longer in conflict of interest. technical data on u.s. trade results, figures obtainable anywhere on the internet, if you care to look for it, that is. conflict of interest? my bro doesn't work in the central bank, american embassy and anything remotely connected to the monetary industry. what conflict of interest? you working secretly in the central bank? apparently, conflict of interest to his own personal judgement. i can't even figure that one out. my bro is one tough cookie to understand. he lets off a string of technical data on u.s. trade results. you see...this is not in line with this....and look at this...... sigh, if i tell him i trade in currencies on my whim, on my mood of the moment, i think he will grasp at his heart and collapse. the sheer absurdity that is his sister.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
my friend
i had my head down, deeply engrossed in something, the actual details of which i cannot remember. suddenly, a shadow moved infront of me and i looked up. there she was, standing right before my very eyes! i couldn't believe what i was seeing, something that i could only dare dream in my wildest imagination. is there really a god in heaven?! i couldn't stop the tears from pouring, eventhough i am not usually one for emotional outbursts, but the very sight of her, there, talking and walking, brought such an emotional high that i could never imagine. i felt all my sadness, all the weights in my heart melt away. for the past few years, i have never thought i will ever see this day, but my dreams, my desire, my wish, has finally come true.
all that was left of her left hand was a stump, and she has grown slightly heavier. did they amputate her? why? when? it didn't really matter, as long as she was standing right there, right then. i rushed forward to hug her, and to hold her tight incase she slipped from my fingers again. we were laughing, crying, talking all at the same time, trying to make up for lost time. at the corner of her eyes, she say her friends drove past the porch. weakly, she called for their names. exhilirated as she was to share the immense joy with them, i rushed forward to get their attention. i told them she was awake, she was there. they tumbled in with unbridled joy and excitement. it was something that we have all been wishing for in our hearts.
amidst all the happiness, a realisation suddenly dawned on me. this cannot be right. she has been in bed for the last few years. if she wakes up suddenly, she will not be able to move around as she pleases; muscle atrophy has set in many long years ago. the moment that the nagging cognizance gnawed deep inside me, i felt myself slowly dragged into consciousness.
NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...........!!!!!!!!! it was like being dragged to certain death by freddy kruger. i can't face it. that all the happiness was merely a dream, that seeing her talking and walking right before my very eyes was just a figment of my unconscious mind. i can't face the fact that it is not real, that she did not hug me, talk to me, love me again. i have never known such bitter disappointment. now i do. i wish, if just to spare me a little more pain, that i will never have such dreams again.
all that was left of her left hand was a stump, and she has grown slightly heavier. did they amputate her? why? when? it didn't really matter, as long as she was standing right there, right then. i rushed forward to hug her, and to hold her tight incase she slipped from my fingers again. we were laughing, crying, talking all at the same time, trying to make up for lost time. at the corner of her eyes, she say her friends drove past the porch. weakly, she called for their names. exhilirated as she was to share the immense joy with them, i rushed forward to get their attention. i told them she was awake, she was there. they tumbled in with unbridled joy and excitement. it was something that we have all been wishing for in our hearts.
amidst all the happiness, a realisation suddenly dawned on me. this cannot be right. she has been in bed for the last few years. if she wakes up suddenly, she will not be able to move around as she pleases; muscle atrophy has set in many long years ago. the moment that the nagging cognizance gnawed deep inside me, i felt myself slowly dragged into consciousness.
NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...........!!!!!!!!! it was like being dragged to certain death by freddy kruger. i can't face it. that all the happiness was merely a dream, that seeing her talking and walking right before my very eyes was just a figment of my unconscious mind. i can't face the fact that it is not real, that she did not hug me, talk to me, love me again. i have never known such bitter disappointment. now i do. i wish, if just to spare me a little more pain, that i will never have such dreams again.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
friendships for life
sometimes i envy her. my daughter. not for her youth, not for her innocence, not for her carefreeness, nor for the unrestrained future that lies in wait for her. but for her one special friend, ray. she has known ray since the very first day of school and they have slowly grown closer over the four years together, spending every hour in school with each other. it is a strange combination, the two of them. one much shorter, the other average. one slightly tubbier, the other average. one more aggressive, and whilst the other is not exactly meek at home, follows along without a whine or a whimper. where one is lacking in particular traits, the other will excel as if to make up for her vulnerability, pretty much like the pieces of a puzzle. good friends, and good marriages also, are like that.
sadly, ray has left the school and the two best friends have parted ways, the opportunities to meet up rare and few in between. yet their friendship persists. she is still her bffl; best friends for life. she will take every opportunity that she can get to meet up; come public holidays or days before even, the phone will sure to ring with ray asking if she will like to come over. such loyalty, such commitment, such love. sometimes my heart sinks when i think of the day when such strong tie will waver, when the friendship will fade. i hope that this never will. we all need a best friend like that in our life, a friend to hold our hand through the long walk of life.
i never had such a friend. that perhaps is my greatest regret. not that making friends was difficult, i had plenty, testament to all the changing of schools i did when i was young. but it was because of that reason also that friendship never lasted. each time a friendship was beginning to deepen, each time i have found a bff, it was time to move on to new grounds again and start anew. true, best friends would have kept in contact but it was an age when internet and e-mail hadn't been invented and communication wasn't as easy. mails travelled at the pace of snails and eventhough each separation was initally followed by a frenzied exchange of letters, it was soon discarded and neglected in favour of faster gratifications in a teenager's life.
it was so until i met her. we were two new students in a school of old friends who hung tightly around in cliques. we had no one else but each other and friendship naturally progressed. we spend many hours together, in school and at home, trying to figure out homeworks that were alien to us as new students interjecting into totally different syllabus. yet, i never saw her as my best friend. we were too different, or were we too similar? we could never understand what the other was thinking, and we never saw eye to eye. perhaps that was a blessing for we never fell for the same type of guys, each secretly wondering what the heck the other see in the apple of their eyes. but friends we stayed for the longest time. through high school. through university. through great distance and wide oceans. through marriage and motherhood. through awful divorce and growing children. sometimes, the friendship wavered and paled in the shadows of the intensity of life, but still we were there in each other's umbrage. she was the closest i had to a best friend. fate sometimes play the cruelest joke on people. perhaps it was never in my destiny to have a close friend so she had to be taken away from me. i failed to see, until it was too late, that she had indeed been a best friend to me. no one can turn back the hands of the clock. no one can give me another minute with her. eventhough sometimes i don't have the courage nor the strength to see her, she is always in my heart.
my heart warmths in witness to the love that is shared between ray and little princess. i hope that she will know to appreciate the beauty that she has within the grasp of her hand.
sadly, ray has left the school and the two best friends have parted ways, the opportunities to meet up rare and few in between. yet their friendship persists. she is still her bffl; best friends for life. she will take every opportunity that she can get to meet up; come public holidays or days before even, the phone will sure to ring with ray asking if she will like to come over. such loyalty, such commitment, such love. sometimes my heart sinks when i think of the day when such strong tie will waver, when the friendship will fade. i hope that this never will. we all need a best friend like that in our life, a friend to hold our hand through the long walk of life.
i never had such a friend. that perhaps is my greatest regret. not that making friends was difficult, i had plenty, testament to all the changing of schools i did when i was young. but it was because of that reason also that friendship never lasted. each time a friendship was beginning to deepen, each time i have found a bff, it was time to move on to new grounds again and start anew. true, best friends would have kept in contact but it was an age when internet and e-mail hadn't been invented and communication wasn't as easy. mails travelled at the pace of snails and eventhough each separation was initally followed by a frenzied exchange of letters, it was soon discarded and neglected in favour of faster gratifications in a teenager's life.
it was so until i met her. we were two new students in a school of old friends who hung tightly around in cliques. we had no one else but each other and friendship naturally progressed. we spend many hours together, in school and at home, trying to figure out homeworks that were alien to us as new students interjecting into totally different syllabus. yet, i never saw her as my best friend. we were too different, or were we too similar? we could never understand what the other was thinking, and we never saw eye to eye. perhaps that was a blessing for we never fell for the same type of guys, each secretly wondering what the heck the other see in the apple of their eyes. but friends we stayed for the longest time. through high school. through university. through great distance and wide oceans. through marriage and motherhood. through awful divorce and growing children. sometimes, the friendship wavered and paled in the shadows of the intensity of life, but still we were there in each other's umbrage. she was the closest i had to a best friend. fate sometimes play the cruelest joke on people. perhaps it was never in my destiny to have a close friend so she had to be taken away from me. i failed to see, until it was too late, that she had indeed been a best friend to me. no one can turn back the hands of the clock. no one can give me another minute with her. eventhough sometimes i don't have the courage nor the strength to see her, she is always in my heart.
my heart warmths in witness to the love that is shared between ray and little princess. i hope that she will know to appreciate the beauty that she has within the grasp of her hand.
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