What is this restless mood come over me, the feeling of wanting to go somewhere but with nowhere to go, of wanting to speak out but - to whom?
If Gen were here I would shuffle in (or as close as I get to shuffling) and plop down on her bed. She would turn and go Hey, what's up? in that familiar voice of hers, and then chat - scientific discoveries, inconsequential happenings, anything in between - until I felt myself again.
So much for coherent train of thought. Here are the fragments:
We can, we can.
Partly because we have to, partly because... time heals all wounds, and memories fade.
Indeed, if they did not fade, we would be dead by now.
For who does not have a memory which could very nearly have killed them, in their minds at least?
Feeling queenly with others to do my hand washing, and ironing, and being able to go where I please, whenever I please.
Back to the comfortable silence, so right you don't have to think about it.
Going on your way, past rows of houses hearing the sounds or lack thereof they each emit; scrubbing brushes, nagging matrons, babble of children, and sometimes the voice of a piano - accompanying you on your way like a fading soundtrack.
How can I explain
The tears which well up without warning
As I drink in the atmosphere which is my hometown
Familiar yet changed
Knowing I will not come back for some years
And doing so will expose me to another homecoming, another sense of slight misplacement.
Talking to him I felt changed, toughened.
I remember you knowing just what I meant
As I looked at the space between vaulted plans
And the flames which lined infinity
You saw the glow-patch near us and were quick to feel its beauty
"Your face is full of determination."
May it ever be so, in the face of adversity.
There we were, in a single frame
Before everything went so wrong
Next to her I seemed to pale, like an alabaster iris
Only in want of a sun to melt her reserve
It is disconcerting to know, in sudden flashes, how the old character still emerges. I know I am growing into someone better, and that she is me, but all growth takes time and I shall not begrudge myself that.
"Is this bag full of your clothes?" he might've asked.
Affirmative.
And I wouldn't have told him about the seven pairs of shoes - still in their boxes.
I can hear the crickets tonight. Were they here before?
It is a happy occurrence, either way.
Makes home feel more homelike.
Maybe the sounds of the birds were what I missed most
Sunlight filtering through the clouds
Upon my beautiful homeland
For that is what Malaysia is to me, always has been.
What is China to me? I do not identify with its culture, or the shrill language they speak. It irks me to be so readily questioned for not speaking what is supposedly my mother tongue.
I know some dreams I have are of glamour, and I love luxuriating in dainty pleasures, but we are not rich.
If you can hem up all your trousers a little too short and still stand tall in them,
I can very well do my own washing and still do good with rough hands.
Now I get it.
He never says the words, but his message all this while has always been to
Be where you are.
There is no need to look back, or try to leap forward.
Just be in the moment.
These moments will come, I know.
But it is also time I recognised that the decision is mine to make - pick apart or set aside, mull over or move on.
I know which I'd choose now. I know who I am.
