Wishful Thinking

Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about living another life..

...a life where I am born of another race.

Would I have eyes as blue as sapphire?
Dark blue rims outlining the iris while light turquoise makes up the electrifying lines of the whole iris. Looking in blue eyes makes me feel like I'm staring into the calming waves of the Caribbean sea. So clear, so calm.
Or would my eyes be hazel?
A mixture of dry green, gold and brown, the rich colour of autumn. I always love the way hazel eyes changes hues under different intensity of sunlight. Sometimes it looks brown, other times it looks green. So mysterious, so mesmerizing.

Would I be graced with fiery red hair?
The hair colour that would represent life and passion well. Striking. Sassy.
Or perhaps earthy tones of brown hair?
To be able to blend well in a sea of people. To mix right in the ordinary.
Or maybe I am endowed with light shades of blonde hair?
Reflecting a bright sunny day. A hair colour of hopes and promises.

Sometimes I wonder too much that it makes me stop wondering.
Because there's so much possibility of how I might look like, physically, if I were to be born into another female body.

...a life where I learn different things.

Perhaps I took up horse ridding when I am 10 years old. The loving relationship between a horse and it's master is not what everyone can comprehend.

Or I was force by parents to learn French as a second language since 6, and hated it. Le, La, Les and to master the twisting of one's tongue just to get the correct pronunciation.

It could be that I found love in the kitchen, baking, cooking, frying. The comforting sounds of wooden spatula and stainless steel wok working together.

Or just maybe I found my calling in painting during my early teenage years. The joy of letting imagination run, working feverishly and then taking a step back to see the final masterpiece.

Maybe I pick up surfing during one of those young summer holidays by the beach. To taste the sun and salt water, and ride in the rhythm of the waves.

Again, so much possibilities. It's overwhelming to think of what I am missing out on in this life.

...a life where I am rise in somewhere different.

To grow up in a busy New York City, where the probability of encountering crime and chance are equal.

Or maybe I'll grow up in the valley green mountains of Swiss Alps, where the air is freshest.

Or it could be that I am rise in a Texas farm, where barns and long stretches of empty lands are a common sight.

I may find myself growing up in Holland, where I learn to wear wooden clogs and call myself a Dutch.

My vice is that I indulge too much into fine details that I never get to experience in this current life I'm given.

You may think that I spend too much time thinking about the unnecessary.. and I'll have to agree with you.

These are my daydreams.
A sort of escape for me from the real world.

A real world where I am an Asian girl, of Chinese descendent. With tan skin, raven black hair and dark brown eyes. Living in tropical Malaysia.
No matter how much I daydream about being living another life, I know all of those are only wishful thinking.

I am contented with who I am. Comfortable in my own tan skin. Happy with who I am.

Why?

Because even if I don't have the face of Angelina Jolie, the heart of Mother Theresa, or the brain of Albert Einstein, I am confident that, by just being me, simple old me, someOne will always, truly, 100% love me.

...and the same goes for you.

Praying hands

When I was still a child, and my view of the world is only 3 feet tall, I remember asking a wise woman once, "Why do we, whenever we pray, weave our fingers together into a ball?"


A quick breeze wrap around me as she suddenly moves her body, kneeling down, to my height.

"Because girl..."

Fresh, young lines on her forehead appears as she look into my eyes.

"...when we interweave our fingers like this..."

She held out her own very hands complete with visible green veins at the back of the palm and proceed to lock her thick rough fingers up like a ball.

"...we can be sure our hands and fingers are not busy doing other distracting things, while we're talking to God."

Until today, I never really know how true those words are.
But I tell you one thing, whenever my hands meet each other during prayer, this scene will quickly flash before my closed eyes.
Never failing to remind me the reason why we put our hands together during prayer.

It could be the original reason why people practice praying with clasp hands. Or it could be something every child-bearer tells their offspring during the child's mischief years.

After all, that wise woman is my mother.

Hurting

We always think we're the only one in this world that's hurting.

Whenever something brings me down and there's pain in my heart, I cry.
I use to (and still do) think that crying would make me feel better. Tears are like streams that pours out all the anger, frustration and bitterness in me.

But sometimes I find myself wondering, how much do I have to cry to make the pain go away?

In every stages of this life I've lived, I always experience different kinds of pain.
Childhood pain would mean being scolded badly from parents. Being disciplined, grounded or confiscated.
Teenage pain would be discovering the crush has a love interest. Feeling rejected by 'friends'.
Adulthood? I'm not sure yet, I'm just stepping into it. I'll get back to you when I've been through it.

We always think we're the only one in the world that's hurting.

But that's far from the truth.

Today while sitting in the cab and being impatient about the crawling traffic, I look out of the window.
The sight that greeted me was as normal as what you'll usually see if you're stuck in the traffic..
Cars. This car next to my cab.

I saw a woman driver in a car. She looks like she's in her mid-30s. Working class adult. Slightly plump.
She was the only one in the car. She had the driver seat window down. Her right arm was supporting her head.
She looked tired and stressed. But who living and working in KL isn't?

At first glance I noted nothing out of the ordinary. But I felt something drawing me to keep my gaze on her.

Then I caught it. She was crying.
With her left arm, she uses her hands to wipe tears from her face.

I felt my heart broke a little. It was such an intimate and sad sight.
I never seen her in my life. She means nothing to me. I have no idea what cause her to be in tears.
So, why do I hurt too when I see her hurting?

Perhaps I felt like I know how she feels. All alone. Hurting. Feeling like no one sees her, no one cares.
But she was wrong.
I saw her, and immediately, I cared.

I wanted to comfort her.
I wanted to reach out to her and tell her not to cry anymore.
I wanted to tell her everything will be okay.
I wanted to hug her.

But I didn't, because I know she was alone in the car for a reason.

“When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them.

But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.” 

― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid

So I did all I could.
I whispered my wishes as a prayer and dedicated it to her.
I prayed that she will receive comfort very soon.
I prayed that she will learn of the everlasting joy, if she hasn't already.
I prayed that the people around her would show her kindness, love.
I pray for her to be strong.

She may not know this, but someone did care for her.

Trap

I heard sounds of clinging keys and locked door.

It's completely dark in my room.
I suddenly find myself wondering what was it exactly that woke me?
I'm not sure if it is the sudden change of light to dark room or the sound of locking doors woke me.

I heard familiar voices downstairs. I fumble around for my phone... found it..
Checked the time. It says 10.05pm. I've only been asleep for an hour.

I still feel sleep in my eyes, but suddenly thoughts just come flooding in my mind.
Why did she go out at this time? Was there something going on?
Mamak. No, nothing is going on. The calm voice answered.

Okay then. That's good.

But I still tossed a turned in bed. I can't seem to get back to slumber land.

My mind is racing. All kinds of thoughts come in.

I almost listen to some accusing thoughts just now.
They were sharp. They were mean. Their voices are prickly and hurt.
It says
"It's your fault. You did this. You made her upset."
"She's angry"
"You're such a lousy leader"

What made me felt torn was that I knew I did nothing wrong. My concious was clear.
Still, I almost believe those thoughts.

But then, I paused.

This felt familiar. This whole situation of accusing thoughts in my head, I mean.

The last time I listen to those accusations, I fell to the lowest point in my life.
Never again.

Instead of feeling condemned and useless, I did something that both surprised and pleased myself until now..

My hands reached out to take hold of the heavy thick black book.
That book that is filled with wisdom and comfort.
The best selling book in the world.

Reading it, comfort and encouragement flows in.

Still unsatisfied, I asked for words of confirmation.

Turning on the laptop, clicking on Google Chrome's icon, I logged in Facebook.
One of the first few statuses I saw was this:

"If you hear a voice condemning you, its Satan, whose name means accuser. But when something inside you in encouraging you, and pointing out your good points, and makes you remember a bible verse, its the Holy Spirit!"

Immediately, I knew.
So glad I did not fall for the trap.
So glad I did not listen to those accusing thoughts.

Take that. I'm wiser now.

Winter

Come stand with me by this window.
It's the same window from the flats me and my family used to stay in while we're in the US.

It's winter.
So scoot closer.
The room is cold, but be careful, this heater in front of the window is getting hot.

Can you see outside the window?

Uh-huh, everything looks dry and dead.
It's a good thing we can't see coldness, because it's 10 times colder on the other side of this window.

The ground outside is barren.
Green grass that were once there are either turning brown with the soil, or gone, as if they know winter does not welcome them.

What's left of the big oak tree is only it's strong trunk and bare branches. The only green you can see from here are the greens from the 3 tall pine trees outside. They parade their lush green coat of needle leaves with pride. This is their only time in the year the pine tress get to outshine the other tress.

How long have we been staring out of this window? Sky is getting dark. Glance at the clock on the wall, it only shows 5.30pm. How could that be? Impossible! Look back at the scene outside, light from the sun is fading, it looks more like it's 7pm. Glance back at the wall clock, yup, 5.31pm.

Winter has the ability to shorten daylight time. I was amazed too the first time I found out about this.
Let's head to the living room. There's nothing much to view from this window anymore.

Here you go, a big mug of hot chocolate. Look at all the white marshmallows floating on it. Bobbing up and down as you move.

I know this room isn't as warm as the bedroom, sorry about that. Too bad flats aren't allowed to have a fireplace, or we'll be enjoying some nice crackling fire by now.

Hop on the couch. It's warm enough. Are your toes cold? Here. Take this blanket. I know it's not the nicest colour combination, but it's the most comfortable blanket during the winter.
Wrap the blanket around yourself like this. That's right, make yourself into a ball with the blanket. Hold the mug properly, now. Don't tip it. Now sit down.

There we go, all comfy now. Feel contented? Ah yes, how could I forget. I'll play some Frank Sinatra Christmas songs to lighten up the atmosphere.

Let his soothing voice coo you to sleep on your first winter night.

Hey.

Are you awake?

Hey.

Wake up.

C'mon now! Rub that sleep off your eyes. It's 7.30am and I've got something to show you!

Hurry! C'mere! By the window, yes the same one we looked out yesterday. You know the way, now walk. Don't stumble, sleepy head.


Look outside!
It's a glorious scene, isn't it?

Take a minute to catch your breath.

The barren brown, dry ground you saw yesterday is no more.
It's covered with a thick, pure, white, lovely coat of winter snow.

The top part of the pine trees are covered in snow. The slides of the playground are also coated in white fluffy snow. You can see icicles growing from the edge of the roof! Some longer then the others. Ah, we can see the coldness now.
From this window, I bet you feel like you're looking outside to the inside a real life huge fridge eh? heh.

Careful, I know it's a breathtaking sight, but don't lean to close to the heater, it's still there, you know.
That's one of the wonders of winter. The first snowfall. It must've snowed last night while you were snoozing off on the couch.

How do you feel?
I felt like the most beautiful sights greeted me when I saw the first snow coated ground. Almost magical. I wanted to reach out and grab the snow on the ground.

Hmm... I can't let you go out... No, you need at least 3 layers of clothing before stepping outside. Or the frostbites will get you.

But that, my friend, is another story.

That kid

The first thing I keep repeating after seeing you was that you grew so tall. So tall.

In my mind's eyes you were a kid. The you I remembered years ago, that you was around my height, messy hair, sleepy eyes, laid-back attitude and those thick eye brows.

The first thing you did when you saw me after all these years was give me a huge hug. I was astonish at how tall and thin you've become. My arms felt like they were hugging a towering pillar. The same tired eyes under the same thick eyebrows greeted me again.

Hello, Joel. It's been awhile.

5 years, I suppose?

I dare to say that during those 5 years, life hasn't been all that nice to you. You smile, you laugh, you look okay, but I see fatigue laced in your smile. Despite that, I'm happy to see you taking initiative and becoming a grown up. Of course you'll grow up, nothing surprising about that, but you must understand, my memories of you were grainy and vague.

All my memory always told me that you're this kid I met at a camp who was the only good friend I had during that entire camp and that I should always cherish this kid.

My memory plays back to me, you and 2 other people sitting around a park table, under a tree, talking about things like Switchfoot and school.
The night was dark, except for the twinkling shimmer of the stars above. Cool breeze fans us. We can hear voices of other campers talking in their own groups far away. But we were in our own world, talking and laughing to ourselves. The only certain thing I remember of that night was how I enjoyed it.

It never really registered in my mind that we're only 2 years apart. I always thought our age gap was more then 2 years. Perhaps it's because you like to tease me 'Granny', or perhaps it's the way I look at the manner you think, or maybe it's the way I always feel proud or protective over you, those things makes me feel years older then I actually am compare to you.

Regardless, I have somehow taken the position of being this kid's grandma 'guardian' in a manner of speaking.

You know the feeling of having no credit in your phone and someone calls you 3 times but you never hear it? And you can't get back to them because you have no credit to call back. So when that person calls you again for the 4th time, you instantly answer the call at the first vibration or ring.

That's the same feeling.

I had never met up with this kid for 5 years. Not a glimpse of him in real life for 5 years, only texts, messages and those rare phone calls. And the next time I see him, he's sitting next to me on a staircase. Pinch me. It hadn't been easy to meet up. We always plan, but never made it, sometimes it's me, sometimes it's him. I want to hold on and appreciate that moment, because I don't know when next time will be again, or if there ever will be a next time.
While sitting on the staircase catching up yesterday, I wanted to rest my head on his shoulders. No, not as a romantic gesture, but as an act of acknowledgement and appreciation. It's like saying 'Phew, finally after all these planning, one of them worked out.'

Perhaps because he's a guy, so people will easily misunderstand. Even sometimes I too, wonder. But I only wonder because I know deep down, genuinely love him, think of him, as someone I grew up with, nothing more or less.

Life will throw us around but we'll see when we'll meet again. 'til next time, eh?

Be good now, Joel. Don't be rash.

I am proud of you.

Even if the world tells you, they are not. Even if you tell yourself, you are not.

I always will.

Remember that.

The Extended Family

I didn't know this, but I only come to realise that I am extremely missing, to the point of craving family reunion.

Not just a small family reunion with papa, mama, Kevin and Rachel. But the extended one, with Aunty, Uncles, Grandma and cousins.

I can't really remember the last time our family unite under one roof.

As a kid I would always look forward to these family events. I would count down to the days. I would force myself to finish all my homework before partying hard (kids style) with my cousins.

Recently I've had the privilege to stay with a friend's family. I had access to my friend's home. I saw all the happiness, love and joy in my friend's family. At first, I treated everything normally. I did my best to be polite and took in my new surrounding like a newcomer.
But day by day, I was introduced to more of my friend's family members, I was exposed to them more and I get to see the love they had for each other.

That feeling feels very familiar, but I couldn't grasp it completely.
I never knew this, but slowly, I realise that it was the same feeling I get when I was small, surrounded by my own extended family.

I close my eyes and try to remember all the details of my own family reunion.

There it is, the familiar sight of my grandparent's living room. The nostalgic orange tiles with extruding line are there.

The childhood sofa I used to sit on. Made out of thick wooden rattan, and furnished with those bouncy, thick cushions.

The chandelier inspired by Art Nouveau movement hangs in the middle of the living room. I always loved that chandelier my late grandpa installed, it gives out such orangey warm glow during our family reunions.

The big carpet lays in it's position in front of the television. That carpet always seem so grand to me as a kid. It is huge, highly decorated and heavy. From what I remember it is red and golden in colour. I would always dig my fingers in that carpet, tracing the floral design on it, until I am contented with my invisible drawing.

The entrance of my grandparent's house is a glass sliding door protected by the floral pattern metal gate. That same door welcomed me to the big family when I was a red little newborn.

I can picture everyone in my extended family in that living room now.
Grandpa would be sitting in the middle sofa with big aunty's husband, drinking wine, chatting and watching TV. My uncles would join the conversations. My aunties will usually be sitting on the decorative 2 steps stairs, watching the TV or talking to each other. They will be munching on peanuts or krupuk grandma had prepared. My mum usually joins her sister-in-laws to talk about her working life as a teacher or talk about us, her children. My dad will be with my uncles and his father, eating the snacks and watching telly.
For us, the cousins and grandkids, we would also be in front of the telly, but we're all spread out, sited on the carpeted part of the floor. We kids always makes the most noise, we would laugh, giggle and shout, but no grown ups would mind us. We would chase each other around the living room, making jokes and sometimes cuddle with our respective mothers. They allow us to be as noisy as we want during family reunions like this. That's what I miss most, I guess. Being a kid, in my grandparent's home, with my cousins.

All these that I describe would happened after dinner.
Dinner was another scenario altogether :)

There's always something intimate about having dinner with family in a round table. I only realise it today, after 21 years, 4 months and 1 day living on earth. How sad.
If only I realised it earlier, if only I knew earlier, I would've cherished the moments I have big family reunion dinners with my extended family.

I miss having good home cooked nonya food by my grandmother with the help of her daughters and daughter-in-laws. I miss the aroma of these food. I miss the atmosphere where grown ups would be at the big table and children would be at the small table. Most of all, I miss the warmth of these reunion dinners. I'm taking about the warmth you get in your heart when you feel loved, happy and contented.

Family reunions today are all so rare. The only time we get to come together as one is during Chinese New Year. Even then, sometimes, we are still not complete. Overseas studying, working and exams sometimes rob my off my reunion with cousins.

I guess the stay at my friend's house was a huge and real reminder to me of how long I have not had my own family reunion. I admire how his family is so close, so loving. I feel a small pang of jealousy. I want that too, but I know I won't be getting that anytime soon. And as much as I love my own family, as much as I would never exchange my them for anything, I still thought, how wonderful if I am related to this family. There's only one way, but that way seem absurdly crazy. So I did all I could, I smile and accepted what my friend's family offered me.

I closed my eyes and imagine of them as my own.