Spring Once More

(This posting is dedicated to an old friend, whose friendship I've always cherished. I wish him all the happiness and success in his life journey, especially now that he's holding someone's hands towards building their own home ;))
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February 5th, 2001.

H,

How have you been? It has been weeks since I received your letter, but never got down to writing you one! I'm truely sorry. Time flies. It's already half a year. Just as fast as the changing of weather, from -10 to 29 celcius, isn't that scary?

I've had quite a bit of performances lately. Very happy. Written a few songs. If there's a chance, will surely present you one :)


Early morning of June 12th, 2001.

The air is cold and refreshing, just as vividly as seeing the picture of you sitting down at your desk, penning down your thoughts. I am delighted, always, receiving any mails from you, far away from the new world. I've just reached home after taking the night bus. Tired. Sure I am. Holding the mail from you in my hands. But your words make me forget all the sleepy thoughts.


Still teaching? Tell me.

Do you remember the last night we met? I could still remember so clearly. Would have wanted to have a longer time. At least a little longer. Did not know you very well. But the warm, big hug has brought the distance closer. Very, very close. The memory is still fresh.


Was it the night you drove me all the way to GH just to have a cup of Coffee Bean? You were tired. I remembered. After so many late nights, working on your songs, making arrangements for your travel. You were exhausted. Yet, drove us all the way, in the middle of the night. You said you wanted to have a cup of coffee. It was an excuse. I know. The journey, was just a way for us to spend more time getting to know each other. I know. Now I know. You couldn't help the calling of la-la-land, asking for my permission to take a short nap. Just in the car. Next to the cliff. The floating cold mist surrounded us, above the clouds.


Oh ya. The only picture taken with you, is just standing in front of my desk. Looking at it while doing my work, reading, or even writing songs is always energising. Believe me! It's true! Perhaps you have lots of doubts. But, it doesn't matter. Coz, this card has already proven how much I miss you.


Yes I do remember that night. The sadness of you leaving to a land so far away, though isn't showing on the face, was deep in the heart. Like a sharp blade, a threat to the fragile tissues. It was especially depressing, when you self-took the photo. You and I. I know you probably wished that the shutter could somehow freeze the moment. I do not recall much words spoken. That night.

I had always tried to turn away from your eyes. I never looked into your eyes. I wasn't prepared. I enjoyed the friendship. The feeling of being cared for. I wasn't prepared for anything more than this. Good friends are always best to keep. I thought. Maybe I thought wrong. Good friends. Hard to find. A blessing to have. Enormous effort to keep. And it costs, to ruin.


Spring is gay.
Especially with the drizzling thoughts of missing someone.
Summer is just around the corner.
Then, there is fall,
Followed by winter.
The season of snow flakes
is the time we meet again.
Eager.
Thinking of you.


February 2nd, 2006.

Dear C,

How's life treating you? I have always wanted to say sorry. That night. I am sorry. I always carry with me. That night. The other night. I slammed the phone on you. I have disappointed you. I appreciate your friendship, your patience, in me. I am but a fool. I must have disappointed you. A friend. A real friend. A friend so zealously investing in this relationship. I have missed something, haven't I?


Some time in May 1999.

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go,
I'm standing here outside your door,
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye...

The guitar strings strumming. The voice, deep, yet light and rugged coming out between your lips. The sea breeze. So gentle. Starry starry night. Above you and I.

Do you remember that night? You and your band, banging into this young girl on the island. The night we met.

Summer. The season of love. The birth of all sparks.


August 5th, 2005.

Sunny girl. You called me. In the email. How I miss the way you address me in letters or emails. You wrote. Finally. After such a long time. I thought I would never hear from you again. You said you have moved to LA for 2 years now. You were moving back here. You said you were in a serious relationship. Your email, short and brief. I am happy. Nonetheless. To hear from you. Once again.


February 5th, 2006.

Spring. The season of flowers blooming. Just like the blooming of thoughts. The card I received is right in front of me. It's been 5 years. Things have changed. I wonder, if you were still the same?
My best wishes, to you, C. And the love of your life.


The night has fallen. The pen is almost at the edge of the card. But the thought of you is never ending...


4.23am

Revisit of The Place So Close to The Heart

That same old fried ikan kembong and ikan tenggiri with plain white porridge. The taste still lingers in my mouth and throat. The smell of slightly cold, fried fishes on the dining table, having left for some time after being cooked, waiting for all us the lazy-bum-kids to eat after coming back from school every afternoon...

It's exactly that taste, that I've just tasted again, after all these years. I'm back to the old place, my hometown, my own home with my parents and siblings. The smell, the taste and the sight of everything seems so familiar, yet so new. I see myself in that light blue school uniform, smelling of sweat and the heat from outside. Of course it's not like being in a totally new place with that deja-vu experience; but then it's not entirely being back to the same place that I once knew so well. Things have changed, a little here and there. There streets are wider now in some places. There are more buildings around, and more cars everywhere! More holiday villas, chalets, resorts in places we used to think if there were more developments that'd bring more tourists and income into the state; but think otherwise now, hoping that the beautiful surrounding which is the universe's most precious possession would still be preserved so that the serenity is still there for the locals to savour in years or generations to come.

Suddenly there's this strange feeling inside me. Nervous, and scared. Scared to travel to the past, though I must say out loud that I have had a great life living in this small town where fresh seafood is as easily found as McD everywhere in the big city where I live in now; the crystal white beaches and sparkling blue sea water of which others would want to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars travelling all those miles just to be embraced in the warmth of Mother Nature; listening to the sound of waterfalls, birds singing and insects humming creating the most natural and peaceful yet powerful symphony on earth.

Now when I've started calling another place "home", though not quite the home-sweet-home home, but home where I come back to rest that tired mind after a hard day's work; the luxury of being loved and cared for by the real HOME always moves me. But I'm too scared to face the bare emotions boldly, and I choose to keep that distance -- me looking into the bubble of family love embracing the soul of a beautiful young lass. I know its existance, I cherish and praise it highly, yet scared of facing it too emotionally, as if the sentiment is like a young knife, too blunt and so naive, carelessness would only pop the bubble, unaware. I know it won't. The sentiment is nothing but like water, so soft, yet powerful; once the sun of love appears, water vanishes into the air. The water does not really disappear, it's been transformed to something else, carried by wind, travel to every possible corner on the earth. The sun gives it so much power and freedom that when the air is cool enough, she's back to that fresh, elegant dew once again. I guess it is the circle of life that frightens me, it's the long-wandering that bores me, it's the journey away from home that builds a layer of shield to guard the heart.

Home will aways be home, the guardian of the soul, angel of our lives. And no, I do not keep in on this physical land, I keep it in my heart, and carry it with me wherever I go.

3.55 pm