Today was community, the names and faces who spell love. I ate too much at a lunch prepared by our helper with both sets of parents, two kid cousins and sister-in-law. Plonked myself down for tea with roadside durian fellow, whom I reminded was chained to me; I’m not letting her go. Was late for dinner with friends ten years old; they’re coming over in a few months so I don’t have to say goodbye to them, I’m glad I don’t have to say goodnight to them. Met a lady I would consider an older sister if I had to define our relationship; we shared life stories and reflected on motherhood. She told me stories of the finance style she manages with her husband and I replied with stories of my growing up. When we walked out of Coffee Bean, I saw my friends again; they had been at MacDonald’s waiting for me. We spent more time together. Such love it is I have been blessed to know, friends I don’t deserve but have anyway. Our wedding day had been friendship-driven and these were the hands and feet who had given their labour of love. In a society where vendors take over various areas and strangers are hired for their skills, I knew every face in each team, and most of all, we meant something to every one of them. Such preciousness, love entirely unmerited. Did I mention, last night, my sister-in-law asked me a question about parenthood? That if I have issues and Hubbasaur has his, why have children? What a stunner of a question. Why have children indeed, knowing the flaws we each have and will inevitably bear onto our progeny? The question stumped me for the night and today. I brought it up to fellow roadside durian consumer, and two heads were not better than one. If anything, we tripped each other more, with our acute awareness of our shortcomings. But the talk at Coffee Bean shed light. There were two thoughts: one on reflection, and the other on the lifebuoy of moral commitment. In choosing to bear children, we capture some of the hope God must have in us; our risk-taking God, who knows full well our propensity to rebellion and still decides to love. Our choice to give life also reflects, to some extent, the life-giving character of God. Hope and reflection are powerful impetuses. Since by childbirth and parenthood we take on the qualities of the best of them all, ideology waves the green light.

these unreplicable things

August 9, 2016

i don’t think you know what your visit meant to me
i don’t think i knew either

i don’t think i knew how well by you i was loved
at least not until this summer

now you’re home but i remain
just me here to remember

to wait for photos to relieve the days
then set a date for november


It’s over, I’ve done all I can. Physiologically though, my body’s not letting go. But that’s alright, I’ve been in worse places, I can push through my head, it’s really not that bad.

See yous when September begins


Then I had a crazy (n) yesterday
but we came out alright.
Thanks for staying with me through thick and thin, rejoicing and crazy, tall and short.



Facebook reminded me of a photo I took 6 years ago while travelling solo. I’d said I found it poignant and the same emotion strikes me still. But six years ago, I cared for it because I imagined two sojourners determined to make the rendezvous, one waiting with all might and main, the other doggedly coming closer, both never giving up on each other. Today it makes me melancholic because it seems to me the one waiting is waiting alone, and tearfully.

不见不散。Whether said confidently or desperately, it is said in hope, keeping faith. A heart can break but it holds the pieces
And stays.


My mommy is a little like that, and I am the distant other.


I want to bring her to Barcelona and Cinque Terre, both, but my attempts to organise the six day trip is agonising. me. I’m not the most natural planner, and 4 trips in eight weeks is. taking a lot. from me. I wish I was better at this. How do people desire never-ending holidays? Or nomads. I mean, I suppose I could live the life, just not. prep it.

I have a wrinkle in my soul and I would like to empty the gunk out. Or maybe there’s no gunk; an untwisting to be done. I can’t handle what I don’t know.

Is it ants over waiting for S to reply me on x flight detail, J re y&z accommodation, or the apparent impossibility of getting mum’s trip sorted? Add the car delay to the list. My head.. isn’t very competent at the best of times, and at the moment things are spilling out. I’m trying to catch flying monkeys (i wish they were ladybugs. Ladybugs are more docile and prettier).

Oh, and there’s Skype with the girls tomorrow too. And is pickup going to happen? At the beach? And will I find out (correctly) in time? Google translate mocks me.

Accommodation for J and mum, flights for mommy, my laptop died in protest when I needed it because it wasn’t happy being unopened for seven months,

I’m going in circles. Enough. Going to publish this pathetic piece of a post, demolish my third nectarine of the day, and get down to figuring some multi-city miracle whilst straining at the handphone screen.

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A twenty dollar note lay on the sidewalk when I stepped out of the gate yesterday. I picked it up, waved it to the world and asked whose it was. Nothing replied, except a bird perched on a clothesline. It looked at me, then flew to the ground. That wasn’t much help. I won’t spend it, though. One intrigue deserves another.

I’m back from London, my brother-in-law, sister-in-law and her boyfriend. The car has been picked up, and I’m taking a break from unpacking. Having a place of my own feels really nice. I have too many holidays and feel guilty about the money; must talk with J about it.

Where has June gone? July and August will follow in like fashion. Then September and some October will afford me breath, before another (unconfirmed but likely) big move. Which reminds me, I need to contact the embassy.

Then it’ll be February 2017, me still wandering around 2010.


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