tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27659564647587601812024-03-07T14:24:45.416+08:00Heartz Of GoldSpectrum of Emotions - Diversity of ThoughtsHeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-48493841258271331482011-12-01T23:58:00.002+08:002011-12-02T00:01:26.802+08:00The Betrayal<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYtSX-9cUkhebM_K6PIqWirhsp5hro15I5wglFZpEnlqKZ8DE2Xe1k19TDOdnIVLPw-6zEiC4CcNMyA6hzmrAmDMWe-IeSapM1j1Mb8ETVkpV8wXcuNZC1JMSKLfUXs67x1Z_T5ecJmY/s1600/2011-09-25+14.52.45.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYtSX-9cUkhebM_K6PIqWirhsp5hro15I5wglFZpEnlqKZ8DE2Xe1k19TDOdnIVLPw-6zEiC4CcNMyA6hzmrAmDMWe-IeSapM1j1Mb8ETVkpV8wXcuNZC1JMSKLfUXs67x1Z_T5ecJmY/s320/2011-09-25+14.52.45.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681190619258663138" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" >0130 hours after capture</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >War Tribunal</span></div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal">The War Tribunal was in an uproar. Tables slamming, fists waving, anger painted at every man’s face. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Council men, clad in smart uniform, had all their hatred and anger pointed to that one man. The man in the square wooden box, facing the President, himself too dressed in a well decorated uniform. But unlike his fellow councilmen, he was their piñata, their dartboard.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Order, order.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Everyone took their seats. “<i>Guilty!!!!”</i> someone shouted from the back bench, and the hall erupted momentarily once more before the President raised his hand, the <i>enough</i> gesture well understood by all.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“General Saduj.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Do you plead guilty to the charges, of conspiring against the nation of Zanotopia by possessing top secrets of the nation and selling them to our enemy, Ramzon of Kalanis, hence jeopardizing the Reyarps search and destroy mission of the stronghold of Kalanis?”<br /><br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]--></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Silence. Councilmen, still wearing their game face with eyes burning with rage, stared at him for what seemed to be like an eternity.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Saduj looked to the floor, guilt and remorse overwhelmed him. No tears from this tough man hardened by many wars, many battles. No apologies from the arrogant and proud general who commands the prestigious and elite squad of the Reyarps. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“I do.” The spell was broken. The councilmen rose to their feet again and threw everything they could grab on their tables down to the box. Saduj didn’t flinch, didn’t react, didn’t turn around to see his attackers. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“TRAITOR! TRAITOR!” In unison, in one voice, in a chant.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Order, order.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“General Saduj. Would you like to redeem yourself?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">That eerie silence again filled the hall, an impending sense of doom heavily rested on the shoulders of the man in the box. In every councilman’s mind was the simple question, <i>Why did he betray the President?<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Because,” he swallowed his choke and cough back to spill out what may very well be his last words.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Because Ramzon was a friend, was an ally,” he paused to look straight into the President’s eyes,</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“And because he was a son of Zanotopia.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">This time it wasn’t anger or chanting. Many faces turned pale, some turned to each other in whispers, franctically seeking some truth in what Saduj has just said from each other. <i>Was that true? </i>Some asked. <i>How could the worse enemy of Zanotopia once was a son of Zanotopia?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The President hammered the table. “This case is adjourned. We shall reconvene after the dissolution of the war tribunal, and turn General Saduj over to the civilian court.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“The damage has already been done,” he rose from his seat and straightened his jacket. “Punishing him will not save our children.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The President walked out of the tribunal, calm and composed unlike his councilmen. Nire, his daughter was outside waiting for him. “How did it go?” Both father and daughter paced swiftly away from the Tribunal towards their waiting vehicles outside the building.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“We’re postponing his case. It is neither fair nor right to trial a man during war times. <i>Inter arma enim silent leges.</i>”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Fair?” she stopped in her steps. Rage rose deep within her. “This man betrayed the country, sold secrets to our worst enemy, costing <i>my </i>brother and <i>my</i> husband to be captured. After what he has done, you telling me we should be fair to him? Does he even <i>deserve</i> it?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“How could you?” Her voice so full of accusation, so full of hurt, so full of pain.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The President never stopped walking, never turned back to look at her daughter. He knew better not to. His daughter was right, her reasoning sound. He should have just charged Saduj with treason, strip him off his stars and medals, and sentence him either to the guillotines or the cells. That would be standard military protocol. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>But I am the President</i>. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">With that authority came much wisdom and insight. A heritage of the Presidents passed down from one to the other was the Heritage of Discernment, and he knew well enough that he was <i>already </i>punishing him by not sentencing him just yet. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Nire ran up to her father, fist tight and clenched, was about to continue her hate speech when they heard a gunshot, a scream, and many men scrambling behind them. Both father and daughter froze in their steps, meters apart, as they gave themselves a few moments for the events to make sense, if any at all. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Someone fired a round in one of the backrooms of the tribunal. “We need medics here!” a distant voice pleaded.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Civilians were leaving the building, security personnel surrounded the President and daughter. More officers filled the Tribunal and swiftly secured a perimeter. Nire grabbed one of a sobbing and hysterical woman who was leaving the building. “What happened in there?” she demanded.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Saduj… Saduj… he shot himself…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Disbelief, confused, shocked. Her grip on the traumatized woman loosened. She looked at her father who still had his calm face on, but eyes filled with sorrow and pain. “You saw this coming didn’t you?” He never responded to her question, never looked her in the eyes. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Both walked up into the vehicles, and sped off to the Command Centre.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>Now what?</i> She asked meekly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Now,” he took a long deep breath, “we wait."</p></div>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-48049631119463425112011-10-27T14:56:00.002+08:002011-10-27T15:08:14.980+08:00The Beginning of the End<p class="MsoNormal">That night we both lay on the bed. Not looking at each other, instead staring at the ceiling. Silence, other than the occasional chatter of the bugs outside the house. The breeze swayed the curtains into a gentle ballet, and the smell of the ground and the grass lingered in the room.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I knew exactly what was on her mind. It has barely been a year since I fully recovered. And there I was, called back to my next mission. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You’re not ready for this,” she once said many months back. Part of my body agreed with her. The deep wounds sustained from my past tour in the Pishrow unit took a toll on me, and truth be told, there was a strong and overwhelming burden within me that would have rather stayed back and rest. Recover, recoup, nursing my own wounds.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>But a lot changed.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And more is about to change.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I gently folded the blanket over and climbed out of bed. Flipped the bathroom lights on, brushed my teeth and washed my face, the whole time knowing well enough that Nire was looking at me from behind. There was just no way I could look into her eyes. Her eyes were screaming at me. <i>What would I do if anything happens to you?</i> <i>What would I do if lost you again?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I snapped on army uniform, pressed and crisps. Only Nire could iron my clothes that way. Other than my gears and equipments, everything else were packed and made ready by her. Even the boot shine. I slumped onto the chair near the door, gears locked and loaded. <i>Everything’s ready</i>, I thought.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then I saw her leaning against the stairs. Sniffing, sobbing quietly. <i>No, I’m not ready.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The bus approached. I walked up to her to kiss her goodbye. She cusps my face tightly, tighter than ever. “What would you do for the person you love?” she was desperate. I knew then, that she would have done anything, and absolutely anything to make me stay.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>What would you do to make sure that you don’t lose the person you love the most?<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p><br /></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>What would you give up for me?<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p><br /></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">She caught her breath, and slowly asked, <i>What higher price must you pay?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Her voice, so saturated in sorrow and soaked in agony. I drew her close to me, nose touching hers, eyes closed the whole time. Right in front of me, was the only reason I stayed alive when the trees and grounds around me gave way to enemy fire; right in front of me, then, was the only person who waited for me all those years just to return home, be it in parts and pieces, deformed or perfect, <i>she waited nevertheless</i>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And it seemed, perhaps it simply was, cruel to leave her just when I returned to her embrace. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>Must you leave me, again?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I kissed her on the forehead. My eyes too, were moist. In the darkness of the hall and stairway, I could see the glitter from the crystals formed on the edge of her hazel eyes. I looked deep and long into it, knowing that I very well may never see those eyes in a long, long time.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“For you,” I finally broke my silence, “I would give you anything. Everything</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Absolutely everything to keep you safe.”<br /><br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]--></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">That is why I have to go. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It took all the strength within me to break myself from her arms, to pick up my gears and walk out of the door without looking away. With those steady, yet dreadful steps, I walked towards the army bus only to be greeted by the Sergeant. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p><br /></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“About time.” Sergeant muttered in his usual voice. I raised my arm in salute, and he responded likewise. “I hope you’re ready.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m ready sir, I lied. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You’d better be,” he said. “This mission may well be your last.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" >The Beginning of the End </span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" >and the Last</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" > of Zanotopia.</span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><a href="http://heartzofgold.blogspot.com/2007/01/sergeant-have-mercy-on-me.html">Part 1: Sergeant Have Mercy on Me (Edited)</a></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><a href="http://heartzofgold.blogspot.com/2007/04/forgotten.html">Part 2: Forgotten (Edited)</a></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><a href="http://heartzofgold.blogspot.com/2007/06/behind-bronze-mask.html">Part 3: Behind the Bronze Mask</a></span></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" ><a href="http://heartzofgold.blogspot.com/2007/12/and-reyarps-fell.html">Prologue: And the Reyarps Fell</a></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-64567007113798703152011-10-25T04:54:00.004+08:002011-10-25T05:11:46.847+08:00Loving<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">To be honest, that day was a complete mess. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I woke up to that favourite, familiar fragrance of her hair. It took a while for the reality to hit me hard. The actual fact, that she’s <i>really </i>back. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">My mind was a complete mess as I stirred the coffeemate into her tea. Why ain't I happy? Wasn't this exactly what I had waited for, hoped for? What's wrong with me?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But really... Why is she back?What if this isn’t real? What if this isn’t what I think it is? What if she’s just back to drop another bomb on me again?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">What if she leaves <i>again?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">To be honest, I did stop believing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I stopped believing that she will come back for me. It was two long, lonely months for me. Every night I played old videos I took of her back in university days to sleep. How her hair just swirled so smoothly when she turns around to the camera, how she always flashes that perfect smile at the perfect time, how her laughter could so powerfully strike my soul to the core that eventually I had to mute the sound just so I didn’t end up in tears again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">And those months, after switching the television off – if I even remember to – I thought, maybe, <i>just maybe</i>, one day, she’ll come back. I somewhat knew that she still loved me, somewhat still believed in me. Yes, I screwed up. <i>But don’t we all mess up sometimes?</i> Give her some time, I reassured myself. She’ll be back, it’s just a matter of time.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But after a while, it just got too difficult, too tiring to <i>keep </i>believing. It wore me down. The thought of her not being around anymore just got too painful. <i>She just wasn't coming back. </i>Or at least, not anytime soon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">To be honest, I did give up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">On the hopes and dreams and wishes of her walking back, on the possibility of even seeing her in my life again. Because 60 days, 60 days without <i>you</i> in my life, dearest princess, was just and simply too much for me to take.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Above all else, I gave up on myself. <i>I deserved it. For not being there for you more, for not being the better man, for not being the one who would have fought for you, or held you and never let go, or... </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i>... or for just not being what I used to be. </i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I did sometimes wonder. While cleaning up the dishes, or while mopping the floor, I often asked myself, <i>does it really matter? How my house looks like, how clean the kitchen is, how neat the furniture’s arranged…<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><o:p><br /></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">She’s not around anymore<i>, so what’s the point?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I guess back then I never quite figured that out, why I did those things that would only remind me of her. Those times when the quiet and emptiness of home got the worse part of me, I just slumped back, buried my face in my hands, and just quietly prayed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I prayed that I will get another chance – though I neither hoped nor deserved it – that she will just walk in, back home, one day. I prayed that she will be fine and alright, wherever she was. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">'I prayed that you will be <i>happier</i>.'</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">But that morning, that morning when I woke up with her in my arms again, when I prepared her favourite butter and sugar toast, when I tucked her blanket up to her neck and pecked her on her forehead, it all came back. All the memories of the laughter and happy moments we shared, all those mornings we lay on the bed and just laugh for no apparent reason, all those nights we sat on the couch and watched her favourite series…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I hadn’t had my emotions and thoughts all straightened out, but I did soon enough. Soon after walking into the house, to find a lone pair of pink slippers neatly arranged beside a heap of shoes, soon after finding her luggage bag still in the hall, at bay beside the couch I slept on, soon enough after hearing that unmistakable sound of the brush scratching against the floor.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Soon enough after seeing the most beautiful girl in the world, on her knees, furiously battling the stubborn stains and marks on the edges of the toilet, with such determination and perseverance. I smiled as I watched from the door. As if she felt me coming, she got up, brush still in her gloved up hands, her long wavy hair all in that lovely mess, and that same smile she wore on the very first day she captivated and enchanted every bit and every part of me - and still did.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: justify;">“Hello little boy.”</div> <div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div> <!--[endif]--><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">That very moment, I had it figured out. It all made sense. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I may have given up on a lot of things, I may have stopped hoping, even stopped waiting.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i>But I never stopped loving you.</i> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" >The End</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://heartzofgold.blogspot.com/2009/01/remembering.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Part 1: Remembering</span></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://heartzofgold.blogspot.com/2009/07/understanding.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Part 2: Understanding</span></a></p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-89354247028316046162011-06-13T22:06:00.004+08:002011-06-14T06:58:35.034+08:00Promises<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "><p id="internal-source-marker_0.945055881747976" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><p id="internal-source-marker_0.945055881747976" style="text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Dedicated to my parents, the people in my life who promised to always be there for me, and never once broke that promise.</span></i></span></p><p id="internal-source-marker_0.945055881747976" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p id="internal-source-marker_0.945055881747976" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p id="internal-source-marker_0.945055881747976" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I was about to step into the elevator when I thought I heard a girl crying for her mother. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">It was a little girl, standing near the entrance of the hospital lobby, all alone. Brown shoulder length hair, eyes all swollen and puffy, clad in a sweet pink dress. While passers-by clearly saw her there, all they did was just patronize her with a glance, and then, quite literally, passed her by.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I made my way out of the elevator, went up to half-kneel in front of her and gave her my warmest smile. “Hey sweetheart… I’m a doctor,” I took hold of her hands. Still wailing though, she could at the very least recognize that I was a doctor from the white coat and the stethoscope draped over my neck. “Let’s find your mummy okay?” </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">And sweetheart, pleeeeease don’t cry anymore , </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">my hand reached for the tissue paper in my handbag. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">You’re spoiling your beautiful face every time you cry!</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">She stopped sobbing as I gently wiped her face. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">That’s a good girl. What’s your name sweetheart? </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“Alice,” she sniffed. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Okay Alice, first let’s go look for a policeman to help us find your mummy ok?</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">…</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“Princess,” Daddy said one day while carrying me around a shopping mall, “can you see that uncle over there.. There! That one who’s wearing a cap and a nice dark blue uniform?”</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">He’s a policeman, Daddy said. Daddy also said that policemen are good guys.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I remembered asking Daddy, why are they called the good guys?</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“Because they go after the bad guys. They protect us from the bad bad people. And next time if you get lost, you cannot find your way back, or if you cannot find Daddy, you must find a policeman okay?”</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">…</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“Next time if you get lost, remember to look for a policeman,” I told Alice after she gave the security officers some of her details. “Tell them that you are lost and you can’t find Mummy. You must give them your Mummy’s name, and where you last saw her also, okay? They will help you find your Mummy.” Her small head bobbed in understanding. Her hands were tightly clutched around the cup of </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Milo</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "> that I bought for her while the officers were talking to her earlier. Shortly after, her mother’s name was blaring through the public address system. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">We sat at the benches nearby. Her gaze was glued to the ground, legs hanging from the edge of the chair. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Sweetheart</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">? She looked up to me and for the first time I saw her eyes. By that time she had stopped crying for quite a while, and the tiny sparkle you’d find in the eyes of any sweet little thing had returned to those beautiful brown eyes of hers.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Are you scared?</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">She gently nodded her head. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Don’t be scared,</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "> I smiled, </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Mummy will be here shortly</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">, I pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I promise.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I know how scary it feels.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">…</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">That fateful morning, of all mornings, a policeman could not be found. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I must have walked and walked and walked down the aisles in that huge but familiar supermarket, without realizing that Daddy wasn’t behind me anymore. I went back to where I last saw Daddy. I walked the entire supermarket. I even tried calling for Daddy as loud as I can.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">But I couldn’t find Daddy. I couldn’t hear his voice, his footsteps… Nothing.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I suddenly felt so small. So tiny in that crowd. So little. I was just 6 years old. Everyone seemed so tall, so big. When Daddy was around, Daddy would protect me from all these other big people. But Daddy was not there</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I felt so… </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">unsafe.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Daddy will come for me</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">,</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "> </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I said to myself. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Daddy promised that he would always find me.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">So I sat on that long bench near the gift redemption counter. That bench where Daddy would always sit while Mummy and I went to the nearby stalls to look at the cute little trinkets and tiny soft toys. Daddy would always sit there patiently waiting for us to choose our earrings and necklaces. Sometimes Daddy would even doze off while waiting for us.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Daddy always keeps his promises. Daddy always comes back for me</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Daddy will find me</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">, I reassured myself again as I swallowed back my tears, fearing that anyone who saw me crying might kidnap me.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">…</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“But how do you know Mummy will come back for me?”</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Because Mummy loves you soooo much, and she would do absolutely anything to find you, wouldn’t she?</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">She looked thoughtful after hearing that explanation. There was a small smile carved over her face, though brief. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“I’m scared Mummy will scold me,” she mumbled. Her fingers interlocked as she pouted her tiny lips. Across her forehead, small wrinkle painted worry all over her face. I held her tiny hands in mine. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Mummy scolds you because she is very very scared of losing you. Could you imagine how frightened she is right now when she can’t find her little Alice? What would she do without you?</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Later when she finds you, tell her that you’re sorry, okay? Big girls say sorry when they make their Mummy or Daddy worried.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">…</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I remember watching what seemed like thousands of people passing by, and soon I got so tired of looking out for Daddy. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Daddy, why don’t you come quickly? Where are you?</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Pray, pray, just pray. Daddy said before when we are scared, we must pray. Daddy said that Jesus listens to little children praying. And I know Jesus will answer my prayers. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">So I put my hands together, closed my eyes and bowed my head.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Jesus, I’m sorry for not following Daddy. I really didn’t mean to get lost. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to Daddy when he told me to tie my hair this morning. I promise I won’t do it again. I’ll be a good girl and listen to Daddy next time. I promise I promise I promise. Just help Daddy find me. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Please help Daddy to find me. Please, I want to see Daddy again. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I promise I won’t cry if Daddy scolds me. It’s okay if Daddy scolds me or canes me for walking away. But please help Daddy to find me. I really want Daddy. I love my Daddy, I love my Daddy. I’ll do anything You want me to do if you help Daddy find me.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I really want my Daddy.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">…</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“Alice!!” A semi-hysterical woman came running towards our direction. Her curly hair was all in the air like the typical TV shampoo ads, and the way her arms were flailing everywhere made it seem like her hands might just fly off her body. The sweetheart jumped off the chair, screaming while running towards her mother. The mother bent down and swept Alice up into her arms in a single act. “Where were you?? Do you know how worried Mummy was?” the mother cried while squeezing her tightly.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I’m sorry Mummy, I’m sorry… I promise I won’t go missing again..</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">The mother walked up to me, her face smeared with tears of joy and gratitude. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Doctor, thank you so much!</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "> I smiled back, and was in time to ruffle little Alice’s hair before she and her mother hurried off.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">As both mother and child disappeared around the corner, a familiar face resurfaced. My mind went back to that fateful day, that fateful moment when as soon as I said </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Amen</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">, I opened my eyes, and there, at a distance, was Daddy, walking and stopping, tip-toeing over crowds of people, bending and dodging oncoming shoppers, looking for me.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Daddy!!</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I was so happy, yet so remorseful. So relieved, yet terribly guilty. </span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Daddy saw me. He didn’t run over like Alice’s mother, he didn’t glare. Instead, he walked over towards me, calmly, steps well-paced. Daddy smiled at me. That handsome smile that always made me feel so happy and so safe. That “Daddy’s here, everything’s going to be okay” smile.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">That smile that reminded me that I meant the world to him. </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">More</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "> than the world.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“Hello princess,” Daddy picked me up and looked me in the eye. “Did Daddy make you wait a long time?”</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I remembered nestling my head on his strong burly shoulder. I remembered Daddy asking me whether I was scared when I couldn’t find him. I remembered Daddy asking me whether or not I would like my favourite MacDonald’s ice-cream. I remembered all the many other questions Daddy asked. But I also remembered that then, I didn’t say a single word.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Because I felt so sorry and so guilty for making my Daddy </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">look</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "> for me, for making him search high and low for me. The small 6 year old girl who got missing and couldn’t find her Daddy </span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">by herself</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Daddy?</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "> “Yes princess?”</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I’m sorry that you had to find me.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">Daddy stopped walking there and then. Daddy gave me that kind warm smile again, kissed me on the forehead, and whispered loudly,</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“Princess, Daddy promised to always come back for you… Remember?”</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">“And Daddy will always, always come back for you. No matter how far you are, no matter how long it takes, Daddy will never stop looking for you.”</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: italic; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; "><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">I remembered that indescribable feeling, that feeling which words could never express, so clearly even till to this very day. I buried my head into Daddy’s shoulder and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I remembered Daddy’s slow stroll back to the car, softly humming the song Daddy would always sing to me when I cried, Daddy’s big palms gently patting me on my back to soothe me.</span></p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt; background-color: transparent;"></span><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-top: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-right: 0px; "><br /></div><br /><p style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; "><span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: transparent; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; ">In the nick of time, I managed to scramble into an empty elevator as those tears, those very same tears as the ones I shed on that fateful morning over my Daddy’s back, came streaming down uncontrollably again as the elevator doors closed in a fortress of solitude for me, with Daddy’s promise ringing ever so audibly in the stillness of the ascending lift.</span></p></div>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-50201235672628238402011-01-21T20:54:00.002+08:002011-01-21T20:57:24.870+08:00The Chauffeur: Penitence<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">My name is Mikhail. I am the chauffeur, and my employer happens to be his late wife Michelle.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">I have spent all my life with cars. Assembling cars in the nearby factory -- fixing cars during the day, and racing during the night.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">Perhaps that was how I got to know my current employer.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">It had started out as a typical night with the boys. Plenty of drink, women, fast cars. But tonight, just two hours earlier, I had hit a car on the highway while going at 150kmph. I was arrested drunk and reportedly racing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">I never thought I would actually hit somebody. Eight years of this life, making the automobiles both my servant and master, and I believed I was good enough for anything on the road.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">How wrong I was.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">One of the passengers in the car was pregnant. It was said that her husband, shaken as he was, was rushing her to the hospital. Right now? Both of them were unconscious; the wife, critical.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">The door swung open. A lady walked in. My breath caught in my chest.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">Wasn’t she the lady I just hit?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">I could still vividly remember the blood all over her face, how she gasped for every breath, how she gripped my shirt firmly as I pulled her out of the car. Yet, beneath that bloody face, I saw a small smile, a little sparkle in her eyes. For that split second, just looking at her gave me an overwhelming sense of calm, despite the furor and chaos around me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">And that, as I believe till today, gave rise to my remorse. If you were to ask me what remorse was like, I wouldn’t have known it till then. That’s what you get for growing up in a back alley with triads as parents and drug dealers as relatives.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">For once, I actually felt sorry.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">A spectacled man dressed in a nice suit stepped in behind her. She shook hands with the policemen and introduced the man as her lawyer.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">I took my place beside the policemen, still handcuffed, and they sat opposite me at that table you see in the movies, the one that was specifically designed to make all criminals feel as bad as possible. Or at least that was how I felt.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">“Mr. Mikhail Adamweich,” the lawyer cleared his throat. “You are to be made aware that for your actions, were you to be charged, you would be sentenced to lifetime imprisonment. Do you understand what I am saying here, Mikhail?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Yes sir, I do.</i> All that was in my mind then? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">The end</i>. Lashes of the cane, darkness with a faint of light escaping from the tiny window of my cell. This is it Mikhail, I told myself. You asked for it this time.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">“However, due to the forgiving nature of the client, as conveyed by her sister Ms Serena, my client is prepared to drop all charges conditionally.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">That morning I drove my employer and his butler to the church. I turned off the engine, and drew down his window to grant him a clear view of his son. He didn’t even know that his own son was getting baptized. My hands instinctively reached for my pocket, only to remember that I no longer carried cigarettes. Neither was I allowed to drink ever again. It was part of the deal. Instead, my hands headed for the glove compartment, where the sachets of nicotine gum were.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">Popping one into my mouth, I looked up, only to see Serena staring down the aisle at me. Was she looking at me, or at my boss, the broken man in the back seat? My heart raced into beats of a galloping horse, and cold sweat trickled down my temple.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">Why was she looking at me that way?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">And then, I could not help but ask myself, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">why am I feeling this way?<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">The policemen unlocked my cuffs. After signing a few documents, I walked out of the police station. At the entrance of the door was a black sedan, and the lawyer I had just met stood beside the passenger door as he motioned for me to get into the car. Serena was already in the car, sobbing. I dared not even bring my head up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">“She’s dead.” It had happened while the proceedings in the police station were going on.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">For the first time in my life, I cried like a baby.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">“Let’s go.” Alice patted my shoulder, startling me. I got the car started and drove out of the church compound.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">Driving along the highway to my employer’s next destination, on the very same highway where that fateful incident occurred, flashes of the conversation in the car resurfaced. I remember asking Serena, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">why would her sister drop the charges against me? Why would she let me go?<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">After all, I killed her, didn’t I?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">Her reply, muffled and choked with tears, completely shattered me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">“Because you were forgiven.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">I cried even harder, almost yelling. That was unacceptable. How could I be forgiven for such an act? I had just killed her twin sister; I had ruined the child’s life; the husband, if he were to ever wake up, would be without his loved ones. How could I be forgiven for that? It made no sense whatsoever.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">She shook her head gently, tears still welling up then flowing down from the corner of those brown eyes. “Mikhail, you don’t get it, do you?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">“Because it is difficult, because it is unacceptable, it becomes all the more precious. Because people need a second chance; because you were never given that chance before and that made you what you are right now; because you are so messed up inside that you need someone, something to simply shake you up and turn you around.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">“Because, second chances are paid at a price by someone, and given freely to someone else who does not deserve it.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">That is called, simply, grace.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">“Just promise me you will never, ever tell anyone what happened,” she added before I stepped out of the car. “We have to protect your master.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">Every moment I’m with my boss, I don a pair of shades, because till this very day I still dare not look him in the eyes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">Even though he never recognized me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">He never knew what really happened.</i> Fragments of the incident, vague lapsing memories of the accident. But never the full picture.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">It was Serena’s idea. She had to double cross him by taking on the role of his deceased wife and faked a medical report, deceiving the butler to believe that Michelle died from a cancer. Right now, I am all that is left from him getting to the truth. Yet, that very truth was sealed together with Michelle’s death and with the contract.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">Call it penitence, call it barter trade, whatever. The fact remains: I am paying the debt of my deeds. It has to work both ways: I have received a second chance I never deserved, and in return I am enslaved to protecting him with my life and this secret, even though name wise I may just be a chauffeur.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">But more than that, the truth is, this price that I am paying pales in comparison to the mere thought of the grace that I have received. For had it not been for this second chance, I would be rotting in a cold, dark and damp cell somewhere out there, in the company of people akin to the ones I had grown up with; yet here I am, with a job, with a responsibility, with some sense of dignity, with a newfound freedom, serving a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">real</i> master.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none">A dark past of hurt and anger, one fatal tragedy, an act of undeserved kindness, one lifetime indebted, two souls changed forever. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Focus! Move on Mikhail,</i> I shoved the wandering thoughts away together with the tears that blurred my vision, maneuvering the black tinted car down the expressway to my master’s next destination, him soundly asleep, his butler beside, watching him sleep with such longing in her eyes.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph; layout-grid-mode:char;mso-layout-grid-align:none"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i>The End</i></p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-87045927572711061462010-12-13T12:36:00.002+08:002010-12-13T12:38:53.099+08:00My Home<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" >As published in M208 Convocation Magazine</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The hallway lights sneaked into her room and fell nicely on her silky head. She stirred as I watched, and those big brown eyes sparkled into life. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">“You left this morning without saying bye-bye,” she grumbled groggily while rubbing her eyes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">I’m sorry Sweetheart, but you were still sleeping then…</i> I replied softly, taking small steps to her bed. She shifted herself into a corner, making just ample space for me to squeeze onto that tiny pink bed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">What time did you wake up this morning?</i> I asked, as I bent down to pick up her matching blanket that had gotten kicked off earlier in the night.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in">9 o’ clock…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Eh... didn’t you have school this morning?</i> “No… the teachers were helping the church with a big party..” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I got into her bed and tucked the blanket over her. Wrapping my arms around her tiny body, she snuggled up and nestled her head in the folds of my arms. “Where were you this morning, Daddy?” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">This morning Daddy went to the hospital really early, at 5am, when you were still fast, fast asleep. </i>I patted her head. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></i>“How come?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">There was an old uncle who had a very bad heart attack. Daddy had to go and save him, if not he would have died.</i> “Did you have to open him up?” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Yup! We opened up his chest, fixed his heart, and then closed his chest. Remember the time we opened up Honey, your little bear-bear, to fix her tummy because she had stopped making funny noises?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">A slight giggle, a gentle nod over my chest. A sign that she was slowly lulling back into her own world. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Something like that Sweetheart.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in">“So… did you save the uncle?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Yup! Daddy managed to save him. The uncle’s wife was so sad before that. She was crying a lot, you know. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;tab-stops:31.5pt"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;tab-stops:31.5pt">“How is aunty?” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">She’s fine, dear. And she’s very thankful that uncle’s alive.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I tucked my nose into the soft mess of brown hair and took in a deep breath. That smell has remained the same ever since the very day she was born. Like baby soap, wildflowers and honey all rolled into one. If innocence had a fragrance, this would be it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">“Daddy?” Those brown eyes gazed up into my face.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Yes, Sweetheart.</i> I pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">“Why must you save the world?”<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I gave her a gentle peck on her forehead. I had always told her that a doctor’s job is to ‘save the world’ - <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>it was so much easier to get her to imagine a doctor as a superhero stopping the good guys from dying than to try and explain how a doctor manages sick and difficult patients.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Because if Daddy doesn’t save the world, then there will be many small boys and girls like you who will have no Daddy or Mummy at all, poor thing, right?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in">“But you are always not home,” she sulked. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I sat up in her bed and propped her into my lap. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">You know, many years before Daddy met Mummy,</i> I began. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I was young and very active. Daddy would always be working in the hospital, from morning till night, and sometimes Daddy wouldn’t even go home. Po-po </i>(Grandmother in Chinese) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">would call and call and sometimes scold Daddy but Daddy still wouldn’t listen!</i> The sweetheart giggled softly. “Daddy naughty!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I laughed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Ya… Daddy was quite naughty. But after a while Daddy got sooooo tired and felt like giving up. Daddy complained to God that it’s not fair, that Daddy is so tired and doesn’t want to be a doctor anymore. Then I told God that I wanted a home, so that when I’m tired I can go back and get rest… <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Eh, you slept already ah?<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">“No… Look!”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"> </i>She looked up at me with eyes pried open on purpose, and we both chuckled.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in">“Then what did God do?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Well.. God gave me a home!</i> I answered cheerfully. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">God gave me first your Mummy, after that God gave Daddy and Mummy the most beeeeeautiful princess in the world.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></i>“But that is not a home…” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">She looked into my eyes. Not even blinking or flinching, her big brown eyes full of anticipation, waiting for me to say more.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">That’s the best part. God showed me that home is where the heart is.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And God put you – </i>I gently tapped my finger on her nose – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">inside my heart.</i> I held her tiny hand and rested it on my heart. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">And you will always remain there. Forever.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">She smiled, that lovely smile that makes me feel greater than any superhero-doctor I could possibly be, and sank down lazily into my arms again. Rocking her to sleep, the sweet voice asked again,</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in">“Daddy, will you come home tomorrow?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Princess</i>, I reassured, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">you are the number one reason I come home every night. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:-.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And like many other nights, I put her to sleep with my arms around her and my heart melted all over her -- knowing that the next morning, my wife would probably find both me and my Sweetheart in her room, on that little bed under the tiny pink blanket. </p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-24231269075865480602010-08-17T13:45:00.003+08:002010-08-18T16:53:16.272+08:00Part 6: Beautiful<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As published in the MP109 Convocation Magazine</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">My name is Miriam. My son, Mike, is six years old. He’s the light of my life. Intelligent, inquisitive, playful, cheeky. He loves jumping around, has a somewhat disturbing affinity for mud and grass, and if he ever had the chance to sit on a piano chair, I assure you he’d be laughing away at the music he makes – that is, if it is even music to begin with.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Every afternoon when my son comes home from kindergarten, he’ll give an exceptionally detailed report about his adventures in the past four hours. Sometimes it’ll be about how he ran across the kindergarten field without hitting anything or anyone, and there was once when he boasted about how he sang Jason Mraz’s ‘I’m Yours’ in class and his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">girlfriend</i> gave him a flower for it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Where’s the flower?” He proudly held up his bag. I laughed as I discovered the crushed and mangled ‘flower’, a paper aeroplane wedged between his water bottle and a half-eaten sandwich. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Boys will be boys.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">One fine afternoon, I was working on my husband’s tax returns as Mike sat at the table going through the details of his day, as always. He related a difficult word the teacher taught in class today. “Um, it’s A-d-j…” he tried to spell the word.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Adjective, you mean?” I offered. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“Ya ya ya!”</i> He said excitedly. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Teacher said we can use it to talk about things, like big, small… </i>His hands waved frantically as he showed me ‘big’ and ‘small’<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">. “Then she taught us many other words… um, sweet, beautiful, sour…” <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Mikey, what is sour?” I quizzed him teasingly. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Ummm… Sour is… like when you eat lemon!!!” he squealed, with eyes tightly shut and eyebrows curled into a frown. I chuckled and ruffled his soft hair, as I picked up my pen to continue.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Mummy?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yes, love.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“What is ‘beautiful’?”<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The pen dropped out of my hands and nearly rolled off the table. My heart sank. As I turned to look at Mike, it hit me hard, again, that no matter how he behaves, no matter how much we try to treat him as normally as any other kid, no matter what people have to say about his beautiful brown eyes, the truth still remains. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">My son is blind.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">So how do you teach a blind child to see?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Well Mike…” I fumbled for the right words as I sat him down on the chair next to mine. “Something beautiful is something that makes you very very happy…” I gently touched his cheek, only to see a smile curve over his chubby face. “Something that you like so so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">so</i> much that you want to keep it forever and never it give away!!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">He looked thoughtful. “Like ice-cream?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yes honey, something like that. But even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">better</i> than ice-cream.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Something that you love very much. Something that will always make you smile, something that will always make you happy…”<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Oh, okay…</i> came his reply.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I rearranged the papers in front of me aimlessly, noticing a slight tremor in my hands. My son still remained rooted on that chair, and my heart was in a mess. I felt awful, not being able to teach my son about what it means to be beautiful. And in moments like this, I wished I was a better mother, perhaps better equipped or trained to deal with my son’s disabilities. To have better answers, maybe?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Mummy?” he called out, arms outstretched.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">That’s his cue when he wants me close, or when he wants me to pick him up, or give him a hug. I leaned over to reach him. His small hands gently squeezed my cheeks. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“Mummy,"</i> the words seemed to take an eternity before he blurted it out sweetly. "<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">You are beautiful.”<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Any words I had just caught in my throat, and tears flowed from my eyes as I picked him up and hugged him tightly, never wanting to let him go.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">That day, I discovered something I’ll never forget. That the eye grants you the ability to look, but believing in those things that never meet the eye? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">That</i> is sight. And for all that it is worth, my blind six-year-old son, my precious Mike, has probably taught me more about seeing than anyone else ever will.</p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-6552187124273487522010-04-27T21:52:00.002+08:002010-04-27T21:55:06.187+08:00The Butler: Deception<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">My name is <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Alice</st1:place></st1:city>. I am his butler, and my employer happens to be his late wife Michelle. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">I could clearly remember the day her body was lowered into the ground. Her sister, Serena cradling her half month old boy, stood beside me, expressionless, dark glasses perched on her nose.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“There is one more thing that she would like you to know,” she said solemnly while walking away from the cemetery.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Already I had 2 special tasks. Firstly, he must not know that Michelle had died from a late stage cancer, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">apparently</i> triggered by the trauma from the accident. The doctors never gave a proper explanation on that. But they are doctors anyway. Hence, the cover up was that she left him while he was still in a coma. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Secondly, I was to kiss him every night, at exactly midnight, only on the left cheek. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">That would be because, apparently, he sleeps on his right side.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">And of course, every other duty of a butler. I’ll have to clean and press his shirts, take out the garbage, manage his schedule and see to it that he doesn’t sleep too much. A few days back, while looking through his medical reports, the doctors noted that he sustained a ‘certain damage’ from the concussion which would ‘cause him to have an increased tendency of sleeping’.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Don’t fall in love with that man.</i>.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">I stopped in my footsteps. Serena turned around and smiled.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“There is a reason why she couldn’t tell him that she has died.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">…</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">My first day of work started as soon as he woke up from his coma. I politely introduced myself as his butler and manager; that he is to take over a chain of companies as the Chief Financial Adviser and will resume duties as soon as he is discharged.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">He groaned and mumbled. Like a man drugged and gagged, he struggled to get up. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I don’t need a manager, </i>he said. The first question that came out from his lips,</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Where is Michelle?<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Keeping to my part of the bargain, I lied. I told him that Michelle has already left him for another man, and had a child. He cannot meet her due to a restraining order.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">And at that very moment, I knew why he had to live in a deception.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">He immediately stopped struggling, slouched into his bed again, and as the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">reality</i> sank in slowly, his gaze fell to the ground. His mind must have had a thousand questions racing through within those seconds upon the realization that she will not be there for him anymore.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Sir,” I broke the silence after a couple of minutes. “You will need to bounce back up as soon as possible. There is work awaiting you.” </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Just give me a few days, I will get over this.</i> True to his words, he did.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">…</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“I’m not too sure whether Michelle told you this, but you will discover that he is a pretty decent man. Responsible, nice, gentle, polite. Virtually everything a lady would look for in a man.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">I nodded gently, respectfully. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">So what would be wrong in falling in love with him then?</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Her smile turned into one of pain and sadness, one that I would see again on that morning when we were in the car outside the church.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Because he is made to love only one woman.</i> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">…</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">I end my day at midnight. I arrange his clean folded shirts in his cupboard as he lies motionless on the bed, blanket kicked off the floor, just as what Michelle had warned me months before. He doesn’t stir easily to the squeak when the cupboard door closes, or when I switch on the dim lights to put the clothes in order.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Sometimes, I will sit on the huge armrest facing his bed and every night, I see a man. A man worn out and drained dry from the coma; a man who had to continue his journey without his only love; a man who had to bear the consequences the accident he caused.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">He was truly lost in deception. He never exactly got to the part of how Michelle left him, how he got into that accident. Worse still, he never knew that it was all a deception.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Yet there was one thing that never changed, one thing that he was sure of: he still loved her dearly. Judging from the times when he would stare and gaze at the portrait of Michelle hung in the middle of the hall. And how the name Michelle would make him sit up straight. Or like how that notice of Serena’s son’s baptism and baby-blessing ceremony in the papers got him all fired up.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">So I tuck his blanket neatly and tightly under his arms, and gently peck his left cheek. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Hi Michelle.” He mumbles in his sleep.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Hi dear.” I whisper into his ears.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">I walk out of his room, close the door and sigh to myself. Have I fallen in love with him? I shut that question from my mind. Perhaps I’m too afraid to admit that I have indeed loved a man who could never love me. Perhaps in my attempt to protect him from the guilt of him killing his wife in that accident, he showed me how to move on with life, how to continue to stay strong for his world that depended on him, heading the companies and making tough decisions. Perhaps that amazed me, charmed me, captivated me.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Perhaps, I too am living in the very deception I created, for I am not and will never be that only woman in his life.</p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-21512121809690347982010-01-13T22:09:00.002+08:002010-01-13T22:20:31.181+08:00The Employer: Slumber<p class="MsoNormal">“Good morning sir, rise and shine.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I hate waking up. The voice that wakes me up is now cold and stern; the blinding lights painfully flood the room immediately from the curtains drawn forcefully and loudly. Subsequently Alice places my neatly pressed shirts on the edge of the bed while I slowly get up, rub my eyes, and listen to her chant the agenda for my day.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You have breakfast at Grands with Opes, a lunch appointment with the CFO from Dell, and a concert by YTL to catch at night.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I hate waking up. Since the accident, I’ve been waking up feeling that she has been in the room with me the night before, lying on her side of the bed, probably watching me sleep, gently stroking my cheeks just like good times before. Yet when my eyes open wide, the other side of the bed is empty. I thought I heard her whisper into my ears last night, her voice so sweet that it would’ve melted my heart a thousand times, yet when I stirred, all that I saw was the darkness of the night. No figure. No Michelle.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I loved the way she would wake me up back then. Her warm fingers stroking my cheeks, and when my eyes open, right beside me on the other pillow, nested cozily would be the most beautiful face in the world, with that pink lips stretched into a bow from ear to ear, dimples on the side. “Morning dear,” and my reply was on her forehead with a ‘Morning Michelle’.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Michelle’s not on the other side of the bed this morning. “Wait,” I interrupted Alice. “You’ve forgotten something else.” Alice sighed. “You’ve got a church appointment right after breakfast.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Yup</i>, I reminded her. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">We’ve got a baby dedication ceremony to catch.</i> She left the room with a sigh and made a phone call. I know that sigh. She sighs when I’m stubborn and insist upon something which she totally disagrees upon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">She disagrees me remembering my past.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">…</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">That morning I woke up thinking that I was either in heaven or in church. The walls and the bed linens were all whitewashed. It certainly took me a while before registering the beeping sound from the ECG monitor and the oxygen mask over my face.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Good morning sir,” the girl whom I know call Alice was standing near the entrance of the door. “I am your butler and secretary, I will be your manager from this day onwards.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">No, </i>I protested. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I don’t need a manager, I need Michelle. Where is she?<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sir, she replied, she has already left you. She couldn’t wait for you to recover, so she remarried and she moved on with life. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Stunned, a million questions raced through my mind. How long have I slept? When was the accident? What happened? No, I asserted. Michelle would never do that. She has waited for me all those long nights and those business trips before, why couldn’t she wait?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You’ve been in a coma for 3 years since that accident.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Where is Michelle?” I demanded. “Sir, she already has a family, and I cannot allow you to find her. She has already obtained a court order to have you divorced and will surely seek a court restrain if you harass her.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">That was when the ghost of the night started to haunt me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">“Sir, wake up sir. We’ve reached the church already.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">I woke up, the car engine was turned off, the radio still playing my favourite baroque pieces. Eyes half open, I pushed the button at the side of the door, and the black tint came rolling down, again flooding the car with a similar blinding light. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">The church is a beautiful heritage building, every brick unique and different from the other, block by block, stacked and cemented over each other. A beautiful arch gracefully forms the front door, with a red carpet flowing along the aisle, and at the very far end of it is a couple, facing the priest, with a baby in the woman’s hands.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">The lady turned to look at her child, though only revealing half of her face, it was unmistakable. Her curled up hair still draped over the right shoulder in a messy twirl, her eyes still sparkles with a warm gentle light, her smile still curves with that beautiful red arch with a lovely dimple at each side.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">I’ve seen the husband before. This well built man with a small but strong smile. He seems familiar, but I could never recall when I’ve met him. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Maybe one day I’ll remember,</i> I mumbled beneath my breath. I may have forgotten much since the accident, but I will remember it one day.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">The priest sprinkled some water over the baby’s head, and from afar Michelle slowly rocked the baby in her arms, making sure the baby doesn’t stir or cry while the priest went on with the rituals. I was sure that I was neither crying nor tearing up. It’s already 6 months since Alice broke the news to me. I know I’ve handled the rejection pretty well now. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">But my heart, that feeling inside me… An unexplainable burden made my heart sank deep into a pit of sorrow. After all the good times we gave each other, how could she leave me for someone else? What happened to all those promises of being there for each other down the years, of being our one and only true love? </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">If I recall correctly, we were supposed to have a church wedding. It’s always her dream to have a church wedding, and though I only thought marriage was on paper, I was prepared to oblige. Then again, she left me before I obliged.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">So what did he do to her while I was asleep?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">She turned back and looked long and far, her gaze travelling down the aisle to meet mine. My heart skipped a beat, face turned into stone. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">She saw me.</i> That was all that was left in my mind. The smile on her face left as quickly as she saw this face inside the car, her head shook gently to a ‘no’, and she turned back to her baby, hair swirling over her shoulder to interrupt our gaze. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">“Sir, we really have to go for lunch.” She sounded cross. Alice pat the driver on his shoulder. The engine roared to life, the black tint closed up the dam of light, and the car rolled out of the church compound. So many questions remain unanswered ever since that accident, so much has changed in that 3 years when I was asleep. For every reason I have to hate falling asleep, I probably have even more reasons to hate waking up.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt">Yet, my eyelids still grow heavy when Alice’s voice fades into the background, and when the baroque pieces lullaby me to sleep. I still fall asleep, knowing that there could very well be a surprise that I never wanted, or a dream I never want to remember, waiting for me together with the blinding light that floods the room whenever I wake up.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:159.6pt"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i>PART 1 of a new trilogy, dedicated to Amanda Albert: Amazing editor, best friend, wonderful companion, and a different-n-unique bro.</i></p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-86960174164495938492009-12-07T07:29:00.005+08:002009-12-07T07:44:58.010+08:00Part 5: The Gifts in the Box<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIdtXnbFcbFcaSYPiFn1pkZT7ZNHaKXSXt9BbuTbnMPmac8Q34RiXU4LleGv5eX_dSz5TZ7m3gaqh7DaiSSw8f6T6qddQSv1TdWRD_OOCtEN-VmlCs-XtGlTJ4u-UdXgCYFlouwQzgGRw/s1600-h/DSC02045.JPG"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVfkjJrdo4jt_u52H7he7P50VdMpLlYFFW3fxcUTAQ5Ud_WA3ODrvLKy4Y9_gXxLljZL3waVxcNDEilz0awYcqFHzgxVarOtAzWzkhST6VwDdJY_2Isuq-IiwMX-3Euq_w8zPOdj3p8qA/s1600-h/IMG_6627.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVfkjJrdo4jt_u52H7he7P50VdMpLlYFFW3fxcUTAQ5Ud_WA3ODrvLKy4Y9_gXxLljZL3waVxcNDEilz0awYcqFHzgxVarOtAzWzkhST6VwDdJY_2Isuq-IiwMX-3Euq_w8zPOdj3p8qA/s320/IMG_6627.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412270977096289762" /></a>With Mike, things between us were both consistent and constant. We would head to the same coffee shop, sit at the same table, order the same drinks, laugh at the same silly jokes.<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So that afternoon, his little inconsistencies surprised me. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">First, he sent a text asking me to come take him out. Usually I was the one who would do the calling and take him for a drink. Then, he was exceptionally restless and frustrated. Fine, boring, ok, no thanks… Short answers for virtually all the questions I asked him since he hopped into the car. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Finally he asked me the difficult question – <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The</i> Question – </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Uncle James, why am I blind?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And that very moment, I knew that he had grown up. Little Mike was not so little anymore. No longer was his world of blindness merely about himself.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Dear Mike,” I began to tell him a story. “When God made little boys and girls like you, He gave them each a box. And in this box, He placed many special gifts. Gifts like ears to listen to songs,” I hummed his favourite tune into his ear, and he swung with the rhythm. He was loosening up a little. “Other gifts like singing, dancing, running… and of course, seeing…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Then why didn’t I have that gift!” came the quick interruption I expected. His face drooped into a sulky curve. His eyes, blind as they were, swelled with sadness and a longing that only God could fill.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Ah!” I sounded cheery. “When you were born, we looked into your box, high and low, searching for that gift called sight. First your daddy looked for it, cannot find! Then mummy looked for it, still can’t find! Then Uncle James had to come help your daddy and mummy look for it… but we still couldn’t find it!</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“So we decided to ask God,” I cleared my throat, and squeaked like a kid. “Dear God, where oh where is little Mike’s gift of sight? Did it drop out when he was flying—whoooooosh—all the way down from heaven?” Mike giggled a little.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIdtXnbFcbFcaSYPiFn1pkZT7ZNHaKXSXt9BbuTbnMPmac8Q34RiXU4LleGv5eX_dSz5TZ7m3gaqh7DaiSSw8f6T6qddQSv1TdWRD_OOCtEN-VmlCs-XtGlTJ4u-UdXgCYFlouwQzgGRw/s320/DSC02045.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412272496027604354" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal">“For many months, we kept asking, God oh God, where is little Mike’s gift of sight? But no answer came… Until one day, a little bird from heaven flew down to your daddy’s window, and came into your daddy’s room. Now guess what the bird said!” </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mike was all ears. His eyes, though staring blankly into space and capturing no light, were alit with curiosity. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“The bird whispered into your daddy’s ear, saying, ‘God’s not so careless-<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">la! </i>He<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> </i>makes no mistakes! Look inside his box and you’ll find that there’s something more special there than the gift of sight.’ </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“So daddy and mummy and uncle ran and ran and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">ran</i>,” I pretended to huff and puff, “took your box and looked inside it again, and guess what we saw!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mike shook his head again, his arms somehow now intertwined with mine. I myself got carried away telling the story; I didn’t realize when his hands had reached for mine.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“We saw, a big… beautiful… heart, with your name written on it. Mike’s heart. This heart is soooo big, and guess what’s written on it? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Love</i>. The heart is called love.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><p class="MsoNormal">Mike’s grip loosened and he slouched into his chair, as if lost in his own thoughts. “Mike, do you know that you have a beautiful heart made to love the people around you? Do you know that every time you sit on your dog and ride it like a cowboy, you make Daddy and Mummy smile…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Really?” he sounded confused, not knowing whether to believe me or not. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Of course!” I had to convince him. “When they smile, the mouth open so big until mosquitoes fly inside and lay eggs!” Mike laughed, and I silently prayed for forgiveness for making fun of his parents.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Ok Mike. Ask you a question: how many kids bully you in school?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Three!” He replied quickly. “Sam the Fatty, John, and Peter.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“How do you know Sam is fat?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Because my friends told me he's soooo fat that he has to squeeze through the toilet door!” Now I laughed together with Mike. And I wondered where the humour genes came from.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Now, another question: how many people love you?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mike’s head leaned to the left and right as he thought about it, his mouth mumbling some names here and there, his fingers held up one by one. “A lot, correct?” I offered. He gently nodded his head.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“In your box, Mike, is the gift of love. God made you special, not by making you blind, but by giving you that big beautiful heart, and because of that He made you soooooooo lovable… do you know how blessed you are to have so many people around you who love you so much?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Mike thought long and deep. "Why did God choose me?" I placed my hand over his head and rubbed his soft hair. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">"Because He knows you're stronger and braver than anyone else."</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Later that evening, I sent him home. Before getting out of the car, he hugged me as usual. Opening the car door, and slowly lowering his feet to the ground, he turned around and yelled,</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMoDeNyvxx2mtlLUp7rthQ89LUEb-pYLhd87fhDpHmf7-INf95D1cAK9cAv_3AJ-C68CjWg9BLKHxIc5QbDt097rYXOHH369rhJP-vR1qzVHeU9jwwQ-eBdJpNx4h-ZhBYyS7i34ZySGM/s320/IMG_6653.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412270974416949122" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><p class="MsoNormal">“Uncle James, next time please tell me what God put inside your box, okay?”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Before I could even say anything, he slammed the passenger door shut. His walking stick eventually hit the gate, and his mother opened the gate and took him by the hand. While Mike sat at the doorstep, bending down to untie his shoelace, Miriam stole a glance at me, and her lips mouthed the word, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">thank you</i>. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I reversed the car, sped home, tears all welled up in my eyes. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">It’s you, Mike. You’re the gift God placed inside my box.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-32591443288958774262009-10-17T14:01:00.003+08:002009-10-17T14:03:37.512+08:00Part 4: The Angel RecallsMay I have the pleasure of introducing Dr James? He’s a pediatric ophthalmologist, once – and will be – a close friend to Ken and Miriam, and eventually a great help to our little blind Mike.<br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br />That night many years ago, while tossing in bed unable to sleep, he received 2 calls. First, a text message from Miriam. “Ken’s going to call you, it’s about our son. Something’s wrong with him.”<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />He was ready and about to step into the car when he received the second call. The nurse from the delivery ward called, stating that Dr Kenneth requested his consultation regarding an infant that was not responding to light.<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />Being an angel and hence being able to read his mind, I’m thus able to confidently tell you that that very night he was a pot-pourri of emotions: worry, concern, confusion, and certainly, guilt. He was praying fervently, words all tied together in one huge mumbo jumbo as his car slowly rolled down Hospital Avenue. In essence, <i><b>God, forgive me for my past and my sins.<br /></b></i><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />His car halted right beside Ken’s parking slot, and the same thought flashed through his mind, just like every other morning when he got out of his car to work. If only things were like before.<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />“How were things before?” I’m sure you are wondering. Well, before Miriam came along, they were best of friends from secondary school all the way to med school. They were competitive and edged each other in different areas: Ken was the musician, James the athlete. They complimented each other accordingly, and in studies and work, they worked well together. They even specialized in ophthalmology. Together.<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />By now you’d have figured out that things changed when Miriam came into the picture. She always had a soft spot for people who could charm her with music. And of course, James had an ego that simply could not be defeated.<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />James reached the delivery ward. Ken got up from his leaning position, a posture indicating his thinking or worried state; a state which nurses and associates in Avenue feared. He leaned when he had no answer, no solution, or no hope. “Dr Ken, you paged me?”<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />The conversation was as cold as ice, and though the tears were welling up in Dr Ken’s eyes, while guilt and concern swarmed every corner of Dr James’ soul, they still refused to look each other in the eyes.<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />An infant boy is not responding to light. No pupil dilation, no reflex or reactions to movement and light.<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />Both men walked quickly and gently into the nursery, hurriedly but not wanting to wake any mothers or newborns. A few nurses nodded in acknowledgment as the men passed by. They found the newborn, and Ken passed him to James.<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />“Strong grip,” James commented lightly as he moved his index finger into the tiny palm of the boy. “What’s his name?”<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />Michael. “Hello Mister Mike,” James cooed. “Sorry for waking you up… How are you feeling hmm?”<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />The newborn gargled his saliva and curled up in his arms. From his pocket James drew out a tiny pen torch. Lifting up the baby’s eyelids, he quickly flashed the lights near his iris. “You’re right, no responses whatsoever.”<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />Is it normal? Ken asked softly, as if he was scared the baby might hear them speaking.<br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>James frowned. I doubted it, usually even at such age they would already have developed motor and pupil responses to light stimulus. As of now, we couldn’t be sure whether it was a nerve or retinal defect.<br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Ken slouched onto a chair in front of the examination table. So what options do I have?<br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Wait</b>, James said gently, still refusing to look at him, <b>and perhaps pray.</b><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>James knew he had to leave, his emotions could not be properly contained for long, and such a time did not permit his emotions to leak. Not even the very slightest. James rested the baby back into his plastic tray, covered him with the ward blanket, and headed to the door. “Ken?” Ken’s head tilted up to see him holding the door ajar. “I’m with you in this.”<br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br />Ken smiled weakly. “You know, I am desperate and vulnerable at this point of time, but I believe that you will not hold a patient, my son, against me. That’s why I paged you.”<br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>James didn’t reply to that, but instead walked out, on the way gently closing the door. A tear came to the edge of his eye as he pulled out his Blackberry. <i>“Sorry Miriam, I tried my best.”<br /></i><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Then came Miriam’s reply. <b>“<i>James, why have you given me this son?”</i></b><br /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I watched with sadness as I recall how forgetful man can be, but at the same time,was assured that eventually things did turn out, rather unexpectedly, better between the 3 grown-ups, all because of one blind child. Let’s just say, it’s my Master’s amazing way of using consequences of wrong motives in preparing a beautiful future for all of them.<br /></div>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-53285092302792014932009-10-05T08:21:00.004+08:002009-10-05T08:35:15.639+08:00Maestro<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">“Every surgeon is a maestro, and his surgery, a performance.”<o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><b><br /></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjraNvVQv70bfiGp1ybnpjfsh59iunkkOGB3ppaZKe6-qEwO8ztGGGntUdmd5xstFvEEPZe9W-bt1sGIfOuG7rI_SOnjo5k8SQP2gJKzHaR7DWDliVgMOwPD3qxVwgZrNYTQE-FhMZS1m0/s320/IMG_8484.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388905861769133186" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">In that small town, there was a famous butcher whom the town folk loved. He would cut the best slices of meat for his customers, and he knew his way around the parts of meat and what dishes it cooked best with. Old folks often wondered how it was that such a fine and intelligent young man would squander his future in the market, and the younger chaps would question his weird habit of soaking his butcher knives in alcohol after cleaning them many times round.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">But what no one saw was, after the market closed and went deserted, he would slowly draw out a leather bag, untie the knots and pull out small blades that dimmed – not even flickered – under the light. Then, whatever leftovers of meat he had from the day, he would slice gracefully, the blades gliding across the demarcations and patterns of dried skin and meat, until the very last vein, nerve and flesh was peeled apart from the bones.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Every swirl of his blade reminded him of a painful past, of a crime he never forgot, of a mistake he paid so dearly for—with his career. And after performing his surgery of sorts in that deserted marketplace, he would clean up with only one thought in mind,</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Are my wrongs already atoned for?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Until one day. One fine day, as he was about to pull down the market shutters, he heard a loud bang. A black Mercedes swerved to avoid a cat, hit a tree and turned top first into the huge monsoon drain. Instincts taking over, he grabbed his leather bag – not even knowing why – and ran out to check. The driver’s door flew open, and a man’s hand waved frantically in the air for something to cling on to.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Jumping into the drain to pull the man out, his breath escaped his lungs like a full blown balloon released at the mouth, when he saw the driver.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Sam!” the driver said. That was the voice he had been running away from, the voice he tried so hard in vain to forget during the loneliest and longest nights, despite the many pints and glasses.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">It had been six long years, but he realized that the voice still, just as real as his memory recalled it, could never escape him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">It was a fine day like this, six years ago, when Sam got a call from his best friend. “My daughter needs a bypass, Sam,” Hawk explained slowly, unspeakable anxiety bearing down in his tone. “You’re the best surgeon around.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“First a friend,” he replied, “then a surgeon. I’ll do the surgery Hawk, it should be easy. I’ve done so many. Don’t worry!” Before they knew it he was prepping for surgery.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Perhaps being a young yet highly-acclaimed cardiothoracic surgeon had its way of inflating Sam’s ego, and while he may have performed bypasses over and over again, he failed to remember that he was still predisposed to mistakes and flaws. Carelessness that could have been rectified had he listened to his surgical nurse reporting that there was massive bleeding in the right leg, second chances he could’ve gained had he not ignored the anesthetist reporting a gradual decline in blood pressure and oxygen saturation.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Try, he did. Fight, he did too. But still, in the operating theatre, mistakes are costly, lives can be lost. Worse still, if that life belonged to a friend. A best friend. Hawk.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheCzwZ6sp_fxCeJzzKg6Ff-jTrGsaVRsZGTlEZFr_eYAaWMqklVE6Zy1qXUwLY84qLD4Z6XC8bTfPR1Qu4DEphuSqGJMz3Wp-kQACEz4hC3XGR2nN1n2GRZxURQoaoFjg7ZfiQwYr5X30/s320/Copy+of+IMG_0351.JPG" style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388907378779763938" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Sam!” the painful shriek, choked with tears. The surgical staff, a burly man, had to grab him by the arms to stop him from falling in agony upon hearing the news. That very night, Sam walked out of the hospital, vowing never to return. He simply disappeared, knowing that news of his ego and ill-fated error would have reached every nook and corner of the hospital even before the night was over.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">The paramedics arrived on the scene to find a butcher with a brown leather bag stuffed into his trouser pocket, hands stained with blood pressing on the right femur. “10mg morphine,” he commanded. They obeyed, knowing the request was in line with standard medical procedure, but questioning in their hearts how this butcher knew all this.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">And at the entrance of the Accident and Emergency ward, his best friend, face half covered with a gas mask, grabbed him by his stained butcher’s gown. “Don’t go,” he begged. His grip loosened as the staff wheeled him into the ward, prepping him for surgery. Sam turned to leave, only to see the Head of Staff standing at the entrance, seemingly blocking his exit, a warm smile on his face.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Dr Samuel,” HS bowed respectfully. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I’m no more a doctor, Brian. Now please excuse me, I’ve got a stall to clear up in the market.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Sam,” HS stopped him by gently grabbing his arm. Brian was once his junior, and Sam would yell at him in the OT when he couldn’t answer his questions. Always the favourite target for a spike, he never showed defiance or fought back despite all the insults hurled at him. He learned procedures fast, yet remained teachable at all times. Now he was Head of Staff. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I’ve lost my honour, Brian. I screwed up, and I’ve condemned myself.</i> “I think six years of condemnation is enough. More than enough,” HS reassured softly. “At this point of time, your best friend is in need of the best surgeon around.” Sam looked away, ashamed. The guilt of his nightmare of a mistake still haunted him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">First a friend, then a surgeon.</i> Their surgical team’s motto rang in his ears, just like in the good old times.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Sam, Hawk spent years looking for you in hospitals all over the country. He even called in special favours from our colleagues, hoping that one day he would see you again. And today, when one of the walk-in patients told us about a young man who gracefully slices pork meat instead of butchering it in the market downtown, he wiped out his surgeries for the day to find you.” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">He has late stage heart failure, Sam. He’s dying. All he wants is just a friend, a friend who knows him inside out, to make sure he’s fine. And you’re that friend he needs.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIzeqBFkJT6LxHfIWTFss5OVQfVvlzGrLeV9NoySsQnCIraeYEeQBy6yWVbnEYpNZWE3d-Ekp_B5ixzXg3zj0o8wMdidxEKZahoRbW1kQAcOzA6x2LyUXqfe1EJf0QSyC4gRoZR8RWNI/s320/IMG_8420.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388905847279778434" /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">HS Brian handed him a vacuum sealed bag as he was washing up. “While you were away, we developed a pretty useless technology of cleaning non-disposable surgical gowns.” He tore the vacuum bag, opened up a long white robe with the cursive words <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Samuel Chan</i> emblazoned on the right top. Memories of his glorious past flashed before his moist eyes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“I’m not sure whether I’m ready,” Sam said, beneath his breath. With tears of guilt welling in his eyes, just like every night for the last six years, his gaze fell to the ground. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Brian’s hand rested on his shoulder. “For that same reason, now we all know you’re ready.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Sam walked into the OT slowly, with Brian trailing behind. From behind the operating table, a smile slowly curved beneath Brian’s surgical mask.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He knew that the six lonely years of slicing kept his hands steady and graceful. Those surgeries performed behind rolled down shutters, where no one passed him the scalpels, where he had no juniors to yell at, and where no students or colleagues watching his performances from the observatory—they had humbled him. And as Brian noticed, for the first time ever, Sam actually thanked the nurses who passed him the scalpel from the brown leather bag. Brian sensed forgiveness for his own self rising deep beneath Sam’s ashes, and that surgery was the redemption he so badly needed.</p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-66506556739012622302009-10-01T09:16:00.005+08:002009-10-01T09:27:48.396+08:00Part 3: 100 CoincidencesOver the years, I’ve learned that seldom was there such a thing called coincidence. That was, at least, where my parents were concerned.<br /><br /><br />For instance, when I heard dad’s car engine and then the sound died, when the metal keys jingled in the background, door creaked open, socks rubbed on the carpet, after a ‘Hi Son’ and a ‘Hi Dad’ reply, mom immediately asked me to help her do something.<br /><br /><br />“Mike, can you help find mom’s glasses? I think it’s somewhere in my room.” My forehead tightened as I shoved my mini Braille typewriter into my pocket, stacked up my books and head to her room. “It’s near the bathroom I think?” <em>I’m sure it’s near the bathroom</em>, I thought to myself. It’s the furthest corner from the hall where dad and mom were going to ‘talk’.<br /><br /><br />“Come Sam,” I waved my hand below my waist. His paws ruffled along the carpet, his neck bell jingling furiously. Opened door, left it open for awhile to let the bell jingle into the room, then closed it behind me.<br /><br /><br /><em>School called again dear</em>, my mom’s unmistakable voice. Mike’s being teased at again.<br /><br /><br /><em>Is he alright?</em> I regretted letting Sam into dad’s room, his panting was too loud, can’t hear my parents very clearly.<br /><br /><br /><em>Ken… It’s not about whether he’s alright... Of course he’s alright, but he doesn’t even know why those kids tease him and he’s not even telling us about it.<br /></em><br /><em><br /><strong>He doesn’t even know what’s different about him.</strong></em><br /><br /><br />Dad was quiet for awhile. <em>So it was a mistake to put him in school?<br /></em><br /><em><br /><strong>No, but it’s a mistake that we still don’t know what to tell him.</strong></em><br /><br /><br />I found mom’s glasses. She always put it at the same spot, in front of the big smooth and cold surface she called mirror. Taking the glasses in my palm, I sat on the bed, waiting for the ‘talk’ to be ‘over’, meanwhile rubbing Sam on his head.<br /><br /><br /><em>It’s really your fault dear</em>, mom’s voice sounded shaky. <em>You’re the eye expert, you’re the one that spent so many years studying medicine, and yet you still never properly explained to Mike what he’s going through.<br /></em><br /><br />This was probably the hundreth time overhearing mom saying that to dad. I know it was rude to eavesdrop, but I really couldn’t help listening when their voices were not exactly the softest around the house. Or maybe I could hear things better than the others.<br /><br /><br />And for the hundreth time, I asked myself, what actually, really, was wrong with me? Yea, I know I can’t see, but what’s the big deal about seeing?<br /><br /><br />“What is seeing?” I asked.<br /><br /><br /><em>I’m trying alright? I’m really working on finding a proper explanation. I’m sorry things turned out this way ok?</em> The gentle pounding on the stairs grew louder. I quickly got up from the bed, and exactly before the door creaked, “Mom! I found your glasses.”<br /><br /><br />Door creaked, 2 sets of footsteps, both halted together. “Thanks Mike! You’re really a great help.” Mom squeezed me and pecked me on the forehead. “Where did you find it?”<br /><br /><br />Outside the bathroom, somewhere on the chair, I lied.<br /><br /><br />Hey son, dad came by and patted me on the shoulder. How’s your day?<br /><br /><br />Great, I blurted, trying not to sound sarcastic, forcing a smile over my face. I had fun in school. I felt for a space between dad and the door, quickly got out of the room and went back to my study table and touched my books again. At least I could pretend that I had no idea what was going on and continued studying. I pulled out my handphone and punched a few buttons. <em>“Uncle James, can you please take me out for dinner? Mom and Dad were arguing about me again.”</em> The phone regurgitated every word I typed.<br /><br /><br />Uncle James’ reply came swiftly. <em>Sure boy! See you in a while,</em> my special phone read my message out loud. At least Uncle James was always there for me when they quarreled. He seemed to be able to understand me better, or at least he tried to understand me better, I thought while resting my phone on the table.<br /><br /><br />I'm glad to have friends like Uncle James. I wished people would treat me like him, like I’m ‘not special’. Just couldn’t help think that I’m just a normal kid surrounded by people paranoid about my non-existing abnormality which I myself don't know about. Especially my parents and teachers in school.<br /><br /><br /><em>Where’s Sam?</em> I groaned as I realized I must’ve left him in dad’s room. Now I have to make another trip back to get him before Mom yells. Truth be said, I know I'm forgetful, but I also know that I'm still normal.HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-60373977758576312762009-09-15T11:03:00.007+08:002009-09-15T18:30:58.863+08:00Part 2: Daddy!!<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">When Mike was 2, he would slowly and carelessly – like any other 2 year olds – hands on the wall all the while, fumble and make his way into the hall where I would be reading the papers. He would place his tiny foot one ahead of the other, one step at a time, with his cheeky grin all over his mischievous face.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">“He got that from you,” my wife often reminded me when mike was up to something cheeky. And on those times I wanted to tell her that if that was really the case, then he probably got the blindness from her.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">But I guess that would’ve made a terribly bad joke.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Truth is, over the last few years, we realized that blindness was not a disease. That it is still possible for a blind child to live ‘normally’.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Anyway, my son. He would walk straight into the furniture areas until he bumps into my knees. Immediately pushing himself back up from my knees, he’d quickly take a step back, get into a crouching position, and jump with hands up in the air.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">“DADDY!!!” the lovely shrills and laughter would ring in every corner of the hall. There was the little kid, small arms flying every where in the air, body bouncing all over that if I didn’t grab him fast enough I worried that he might probably hit something.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">2 years later, he began to recognize the sound of my car engine when coming back from work. So by the time I opened the door, all that was left of him was just the little toes sticking out from the corner of our huge sofa, and soft giggles that he could never conceal properly.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">He would wait for me to come close, and I would deliberately drag my socks as loud as I can on the soft carpet floor. Right before reaching the sofa, I would ask loudly, “I wonder what happen to Mike! Did Sam eat him up?”<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">By the way, Sam’s the dog that Mike doubles up as a horse.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">That’s the cue for Mike to jump out from the couch, “DADDY!!!” Sometimes he would jump facing the wrong direction, but that didn’t really matter because he would be jumping all over the place facing every where but me, and screaming his lungs out until I grab him, throw him into the air, spin him giddy, rest him on the sofa and tickle him silly.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">After that, he would run off heaving and panting to mummy, along the way knocking himself into the huge vase that I later got rid off, and sliding right into the huge curtains that adorn the dining area.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Watching him bump his way to my wife and how my wife had to yank his then sweaty <i style="">baju</i> from his wriggling body, I then conceded that he need not look to be able to see. Maybe, maybe he has already seen everything that truly mattered, and maybe, Mike’s blindness was simply a different gift to me and my wife. One not short of its knockbacks surely, but definitely bundled with a whole lot more of joy.</p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-76506426870867005062009-09-07T11:18:00.003+08:002009-09-07T11:26:37.508+08:00Part 1 "Would you like some ice-cream?"<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">A new series</span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Over the years I’ve learned to not ask silly questions.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">The Sunday School classes I attended in church were amazing. The teachers there tell me a lot of stories. Some was about how a big fish swallowed this angry little man called Jonah, and there was this fascinating story about how Moses held up his 'stick' – which my teacher quickly corrected me by saying ‘staff’ – and parted a ‘very very big sea’, and many more.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">One of it was about how Jesus healed a blind man. “He took some mud, rubbed them on his eyes and told the blind man to wash in a nearby pool,” the teacher said, voice full of expression and excitement. “And do you know what happened next?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“He could see again!” all my other friends yelled beside me. They were laughing, I think they were probably smiling too. The teacher was full of praises for my friends, and everyone was excited except me. I was, in most accurate description, puzzled. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Teacher,” I finally asked after the laughter subsided. “<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal">What’s wrong with being blind?</b>” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">It was the silence that scared me. Not even my friends made a sound, and for a while I thought they have all left the room. “Mike,” came the teacher’s voice, “Would you like some sweets?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">So back home later the evening, not happy with the fact that I couldn’t get an answer from my teacher, I felt my way to the kitchen. I heard my mom cutting some veggies. I remember how ‘green veggies’ feel like, and the sound of the stalk snapping over the chopping board and under the knife. The loud, crunching, stick-snapping sound.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Mummy, what’s wrong with being blind?” the snapping sound stopped immediately. Her firm and damp palms were secured over my shoulders. She was right in front of me, could hear the sound of her breaths, now heavy, deep and slow. “Why would you say so?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">This morning in Sunday School the teacher told us about Jesus healing a blind man</i>. No response. Her grip over my shoulder relaxed. Should I continue? </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">And when I asked the teacher what’s wrong with being blind, she told me to eat sweets</i>. Mummy laughed. She ruffled my hair and gave me a peck on the forehead. The stick-snapping sound resumed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Mummy, why can’t Jesus make me see again?</i></b> Again, the stick-snapping sound ceased. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Mike, would you like some ice-cream?” the rubber door opened and closed, and I heard the big metal spoon digging into the cold ice cream tub. Alternating between the digging sounds of the ice-cream was the very muffled, soft, but distinct sniffling sound, something like the sound I make when I get a runny nose.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">That day, while shoving the ice cream all over my face and into my mouth, I learned 2 things then; firstly, silly questions will make mummy cry; secondly, that sweets and ice-creams are given to me when the adults cry, or when they have no answers to my questions.</p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-29291734163530484572009-07-29T08:42:00.004+08:002009-07-29T14:45:58.425+08:00Children<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><i><b>A true story.</b></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Hospital has a policy: if you’re a bachelor and a surgeon, more often than not, you’d be the one that’ll work the on call hours. And if you’re an intern surgeon, they send you to the A&E ward – the hospital’s 7-eleven. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">One night after taking over from the previous shift, a small boy was wheeled in by his mother. “Doctor?” My son broke his hand, can you please help him?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">I took a look at his hand. It was an open wound with the bone actually jutting out. “This might be nasty,” I told the mother. We’ll have to get an X-ray, and we’ll get the operation theatre ready. So in the mean time ma’am, I suppose you can wait outside alright?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">As soon as I wheeled him out of A&E heading towards the radiology department, he started sobbing. “Doctor, my hand’s very painful,” he sobbed. Of course it hurts small boy, surely it hurts. But why do you only start crying now? Wasn’t it painful just now?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“I don’t want mummy to see me crying.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">I smiled. What happened boy? How did you hurt your hand? “I was playing with daddy and while running I fell down.” I rubbed his short hair. Why so careless boy? “I didn’t see the steps… it’s not my fault…” he whined.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">We got the X-ray done and took him back to the A&E. “I think we’ll operate right away ma’am.” After the mom signed all the consent forms, she held the boy’s hand. The boy was already lying on the bed, his clothes changed and all prepared for the surgery. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Mummy… Please don’t scold daddy okay? It’s not daddy’s fault…” Okay... Mummy promise, mummy won’t scold daddy. From a distance I could see the mom smiling as her hands ran through his hair.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">“Mummy, don’t worry ok? I’ll be fine… I promise I’ll be fine..”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">We took over from the mother. As the doors swung close behind us, the boy tugged my surgical gown with his other hand. “Doctor... I’m sorry for making you work… mummy said doctors work very hard every day but you’re still working even at night…” No no! It’s my job boy. Don’t worry, I’m happy to help you get better. Really!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">We wheeled him into the surgery. The anesthesia machine was ready and the mask in my hands. “Doctor!” he softly cried. “You’ll fix my hand right? It’ll be fine right? Because if my hand does not get well, mummy will cry…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">Before I could say anything else, he continued wearily, “Can you help to put a blanket over her later so she can sleep? Doctor please tell mummy I’ll be fine… and tell mummy not to scold daddy, it’s not his fault…” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">I knew he could see my smile hidden by the surgical mask. “I promise, boy! For now, let’s make sure you get well so you can take care of mummy alright?” His head nodded gently. The gas mask was placed over his nose and mouth, and in seconds he was fast asleep.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-justify:inter-ideograph">The orthopedic surgeon asked for the scalpel.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Alright guys, let’s get this sweetheart's hand back.” An hour later I walked out to inform the mom about the successful and uncomplicated surgery while passing her a blanket. I never saw him wake up because I never followed up on that boy. Till this day though, I could still remember that one surgery where everyone in the theatre was virtually speechless but smiling all the way. Truly it is patients like that boy that puts a smile on the weariest facade of our job. </p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-16579106546919824452009-07-20T09:50:00.004+08:002009-07-20T10:06:00.887+08:00Understanding<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6lAfsEbZpLMo3r0sfV3K8mTtSfkCVEmVaVlWBrC5IEnSLjblhpeMLeocCHBErsPnOp-IaMMUkFq5x05f2gacDT5MlsZOdUtFkBBjCDDiH4i2GdvxsjHDIQYKKhuSeVC4xNBMCSgfNr18/s1600-h/4324_81284204583_530969583_1822428_285502_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6lAfsEbZpLMo3r0sfV3K8mTtSfkCVEmVaVlWBrC5IEnSLjblhpeMLeocCHBErsPnOp-IaMMUkFq5x05f2gacDT5MlsZOdUtFkBBjCDDiH4i2GdvxsjHDIQYKKhuSeVC4xNBMCSgfNr18/s320/4324_81284204583_530969583_1822428_285502_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360357733305657922" border="0" /></a>I have a big weakness. I take people for granted, especially those who are closest to me. Take my princess for example. I never told her what I should’ve always told her, treated her the way I always should’ve treated her, and that night when she walked out on me, I succumbed into the depressed state of guilt and remorse.<br /><br /><br />And I told myself, I need a chance. Just one more time, to let her know what I should’ve told her much earlier.<br /><br /><br />The first thing she should know was how I fell in love with her. Truth be said, she demonstrated what love at first sight really was about. Her hair wasn’t combed straight, swaying and dancing to the rhythm of her steps; her face wasn’t glowing with cherry blossom make-up or radiance powder; her dress was a plain blouse and a simple skirt. She was in a rush, preparing to worship lead that morning in church.<br /><br /><br />Then she smiled. And it was her smile – that smile – that captivated me, and will continue to captivate me down the years. I actually believed that her massive ball of hair, her simple dress and her plain face, like jigsaws to a big picture, completed her smile, immediately making her arguably the sweetest living being in this world. She wasn’t smiling at me, but I guess she saw me staring from a distance – probably jaw ajar – and she smiled back.<br /><br /><br />Her voice was one of an angel. Even if not for the smile, I knew I would be the happiest blind man around to fall in love with her. Church suddenly took on a whole different meaning. One that wouldn’t glorify God for sure, but one that made my life never the same again from that day onwards. That whole morning I knew I wasn’t concentrating. Her voice was ringing in my head as much as her smile kept replaying in the not-so-distance memory, much more attention given than what the morning’s sermon called for.<br /><br /><br />The secret here was that had she not tugged me by my hand after church as I walked in directions avoiding her, had she not run up to me to ask for my name – and still with that sweet smile carved across her face – I would’ve never have had the guts to get her number, invite her for lunch, pursue a friendship and eventually a relationship, with her. While it was her smile that captivated me and her voice that took my breath away, it was her - simply her - that unreservedly and uncontrollably attracted me.<br /><br /><br />I should’ve told her too, that the best food she ever introduced to me was nothing but the butter sugar sandwich. That fateful night I messed up while preparing a supper. She graciously took the loaf of bread from the table, helped herself to the fridge and shelf, and came back with a butter knife in one hand, sugar and butter in the other. What followed were her gentle strokes of the knife swelling with butter and sugar on the bread before wide-opened eyes across the table. And again, she smiled as she passed the bread to me.<br /><br /><br />“Try this! It’s my mother’s war-time recipe.” War-time? Sweet smile again. “I’m serious! She ate this during the war era.”<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7avmDGJJtIcDsf260w0Oq04Nkbvq-deSn2KEGNm03FeO_uMDiNwV_jl_XFvve_DAm8XlIb-u_gH8cUBEzvAOlqwIQ3csH4nSUB2bVXnQMJM-1G56Wr9UXZeWMFUmw59P4oFlK1r9QUGc/s1600-h/n530969583_1359098_7626.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7avmDGJJtIcDsf260w0Oq04Nkbvq-deSn2KEGNm03FeO_uMDiNwV_jl_XFvve_DAm8XlIb-u_gH8cUBEzvAOlqwIQ3csH4nSUB2bVXnQMJM-1G56Wr9UXZeWMFUmw59P4oFlK1r9QUGc/s320/n530969583_1359098_7626.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360356494731114738" border="0" /></a>Even though I later found out that there simply was no butter during Japanese era – come think about it, how could you keep butter without electricity or a fridge? – but I still remember her preparing the bread, and on the many nights of studying alone late into the night, that simple sandwich reminded me of a girl waiting for me, anxiously yet patiently, for me to come back to her after saving the world.<br /><br /><br />If she ever returns and walks through the doors again, I swear I’ll tell her, that to call her a good wife is pure understatement. She’s the reason why I go home, she’s the only person I’d stop doing absolutely anything for – once I left a fully bloated blood pressure cuff on my patient’s hand, completely forgetting about it as I was busy replying her text – and she is the girl I fall in love with, over and over again.<br /><br /><br />That, I owe it to my morning experiences with her. She wakes me up with a peck on the forehead. I’d open my eyes to meet the most beautiful girl in my life, lying on top of me, just enough for me to see her face. Messy hair swirled and draped over her left shoulder, the gentle rays that sneaked through the curtains brightening her face, and her warm palms stroking my cheeks.<br /><br /><br />“How could I not fall in love with the way you look at me, little boy?”<br /><br /><br />In her eyes, I am forever her heart’s little boy. One morning I woke up with a terrible sinus problem that got me all restless and edgy. Shortly after lunch I was starting to throw a tantrum when she gently led me by the hand, walked to the bedroom and plopped me on the bed. The next thing I knew, she was already sitting with legs crossed, and rested my head in her lap.<br /><br /><br />“Why so restless little boy?” The gentle touch of her fingers, her angelic voice, that heart-stopping smile, the messy-lovely hair of hers flowing over both sides of her neck, those round sparkling eyes that I’d never take mine away at.<br /><br /><br />So how exactly would you tell her the many sights of children dying from diarrhea, or women dying from massive uterine bleeding due to rape, or soldiers dying from medical negligence? How could I tell her that after coming home and going back to work in hospital, every patient somehow reminded me of the victims of tyrannies and terrorism? How do I even tell her that every shrill and scream simply sounds no different from those in war zones?<br /><br /><br />But I should, at the very least, tell her that she’s my last comfort, rest and recluse. That while the many hours of prayer seemed to pull me further away from a faith I once believed in, while reality has left me delusioned with the promises of God and somehow succumbed to the fact that I simply wasn’t as strong as what I thought I was; all I had left, amid my defeat and struggles, was a girl that still could, and would, accept me for all that I was and wasn’t. All I wanted her to know, was only that I needed her to run away from the realities I couldn’t run away from.<br /><br /><br />When she broke the news to me about leaving and working in Price Waterhouse, I knew I blundered. I apologized. For all the promises I should’ve kept, for all that I promised her I’d be, for failing to be there for her the many times she needed me badly. She took my hand from across the table – the very same spot she buttered the bread years back – and with a painful smile, forgave me,<br /><br /><br />“It’s alright dear. You never made me many promises.”<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrIG2EAxM64V-Qj-fTyL_slL9p0ryJq7ioxTUJNuJNsizytKw0yEXNgrM6KGPQDngPlp1grYGuZ2-dEZ1RbGDpr4b0Sm8QhrcPcMqD9QGvXh0CRclw4XqjeUq4pmqJ6W-8ni4Xqfn5r0/s1600-h/i_can_always_make_you_smile.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrIG2EAxM64V-Qj-fTyL_slL9p0ryJq7ioxTUJNuJNsizytKw0yEXNgrM6KGPQDngPlp1grYGuZ2-dEZ1RbGDpr4b0Sm8QhrcPcMqD9QGvXh0CRclw4XqjeUq4pmqJ6W-8ni4Xqfn5r0/s320/i_can_always_make_you_smile.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360355798902014418" border="0" /></a>So I sleep on the couch every night, just in case my princess comes home, I’d be ready to receive and welcome her. Something tells me that she’d be back. That faith and belief once again put me back to my knees. For a long time I’ve not begged God for another chance, and for an even longer time I’ve not asked for grace. Her absence torments me, but as some of her clothes still remain in my wardrobe, it is a gentle reminder that she’s still there. It gives me enough time to keep the house in order, and to put my life back in place, just so that she’ll know that I have been, and still am, waiting for her, the very girl who lovingly forgives me for most of promises broken, and graciously forgets the rest.</div>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-75158843659689468712009-07-02T18:28:00.006+08:002009-07-02T18:44:49.685+08:00The Locksmith<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbJjdKQu_10HfP-liBs1Ik2UY7uEPp_-Bk-INqPawH4u32oVtdO6Y6hj_XJMUYHUU3nkxBXY0E6_ceP2wySJyhOqfXcyfyT8U-2fGGBz4kVtlW3-vV19uJP4coyZmdY2lHKh32YPULY0/s1600-h/IMG_6742.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhbJjdKQu_10HfP-liBs1Ik2UY7uEPp_-Bk-INqPawH4u32oVtdO6Y6hj_XJMUYHUU3nkxBXY0E6_ceP2wySJyhOqfXcyfyT8U-2fGGBz4kVtlW3-vV19uJP4coyZmdY2lHKh32YPULY0/s320/IMG_6742.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353810063295423010" border="0" /></a>
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div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="">70 yo, male.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“So what brings you here today, young doc?” He handed me the glass of tea. Lens frosted from the steam, I lifted the glass to my lips and took the spectacles off my nose. I knew I couldn’t lie to him. He was much wiser than my colleagues thought. He wasn’t just any ordinary old man who was stubborn. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There was something about him. A side to him that people didn’t really see.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“I’m here because I was sent here by the hospital, uncle.” I decided to be honest. “I will not lie to you that I’m here because I’m a friend or that I care about you, but I’m here because I was told to follow-up on you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He smiled. Sitting comfortably across the small coffee table. Behind him was a portrait of him and his wife, definitely in their younger days. A 6R black and white photo framed in wood which paint had uncoated slowly over the years. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="">“He is difficult to manage, stubborn and refuses medication. Psychiatric therapy and intervention suggested. Requires following up.” 16/5/08</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Have you still been working, uncle?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Tiny smile. I’m a locksmith, young doc. I make locks, I repair locks.. My life is all about locks.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="">“And in the process you became a lock too.” </b>Am I right, uncle?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">The smile on his face vanished. His gaze locked dead into mine, and his hands started to tremble a little. After a brief moment he turned away, not knowing where to gaze, bent over from his chair towards me. “More tea, young doc?” That would be great uncle. I like your tea.<span style=""> </span>“Jasmine tea,” he replied as he poured more into my cup. “How old are you?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m 28 this year. I know I’m young and inexperienced in many ways.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He chuckled. Then why are you here? </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b style="">“Because I too am a locksmith. </b>A different locksmith,<b style=""> and I’m just trying to help you find the keys to your own lock.”</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">He reclined in his chair, and sadness came into his eyes. Son, he said. Those keys are not missing. They’re gone. <b style="">And no two keys are ever the same. Not even if they’re duplicated.</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p>
<br /></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Who’s the key to your lock then?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="">
<br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQATfGV8mYQ9JvZZHFj86FkJTAH580Q8dF8348BdsZ4zueMfxZJ0kYTsM05EYjTo-kBSkLXS9fJgIfTVvTRMo3xz53dABhpeuFqwYVubGJzjtrHjZhewkSAQrDH1A1antYHtghI13xFoA/s1600-h/IMG_6986.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQATfGV8mYQ9JvZZHFj86FkJTAH580Q8dF8348BdsZ4zueMfxZJ0kYTsM05EYjTo-kBSkLXS9fJgIfTVvTRMo3xz53dABhpeuFqwYVubGJzjtrHjZhewkSAQrDH1A1antYHtghI13xFoA/s320/IMG_6986.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353811216677708338" border="0" /></a><i style="">Wife deceased in 1996, no contact with family or relatives since 2000.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Long, heavy, burdened sigh. It’s been a very long time since I last talked to anyone properly, he opened up cautiously. The last time I spoke to a friend or a family member was probably in the last century. I thought it would be better to stay away from people, or from the things that reminded me too much of my past.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Young doc, you have no idea how much I’ve lost over the years. How much I’ve struggled and fought for what I thought mattered to me. What would you know about these?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="">
<br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="">Senior once told me, that the infamous locksmith in the city lived on his own, in recluse. He did so after his wife was killed by burglars who broke the lock of his home, robbed her and killed her. All while he was away fixing another house’s lock.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I know that your lock was broken while you were away fixing someone else’s locks. Your treasure, your key, since then was gone. I’m truly sorry to hear about that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Ah, that’s right, he said. There was no look of remorse or regret on his face. Still the stony expression since the start of this conversation. <b style="">There are no locks that cannot be broken.</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Locks were never meant to be broken, I protested. They’re meant to keep the inside from the outside. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">“Then what are you doing here?” He snapped. Numb, my head hung low, hands locked interdigitally, not knowing what else to say.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m sorry uncle. I’m young, inexperienced, and brash.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I don’t blame you son, I’m an old lock. And old locks are always harder to open. That’s the truth. Understand this, young doc—<b style="">even an empty chest has its treasure</b>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">What’s your treasure? “Memories. Memories of what I once had but lost.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style=""><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="">
<br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="">Chronic depression, possibly manifested from post traumatic stress disorder.</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5BWc_ztrNhqSlicgIA5u_kuW-KWp5l3QVeKSdpNV4ld6mF5uplmTCjPvJiusiRf6vT4QDvW_enqajts4FzepKp8gdgZBgdiQE7ntaLOvRnOtMADj-j7eShfyKsHqScoXos731A8rIlI/s1600-h/IMG_6857.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5BWc_ztrNhqSlicgIA5u_kuW-KWp5l3QVeKSdpNV4ld6mF5uplmTCjPvJiusiRf6vT4QDvW_enqajts4FzepKp8gdgZBgdiQE7ntaLOvRnOtMADj-j7eShfyKsHqScoXos731A8rIlI/s320/IMG_6857.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353810070405884898" border="0" /></a>That’s guilt, uncle. That’s no treasure worth keeping. <b style="">A treasure worth keeping should never be locked away. </b>You bring it out, you take it out and appreciate it; you don’t lock it away and hide it from people. Treasures don’t make you bitter, angry, or depressed. They don’t make you run away, they don’t make you cry. They don’t make you what you are right now, uncle. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">For a while, I thought he held his breath. The only sound came from the ticking of the old clock on the bare wall. “What do you want?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I want to help open your lock. A lock which hangs on the outside, that you from the inside cannot open. And I’m a locksmith, you’re the chest, the lock and the treasure.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Why would a dying man be of value to anyone? I smiled. “I’m sure you know, uncle, that <b style="">every lock has its purpose and value.</b>”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You know that I care, uncle. “I do,” he said. He paused for a moment, as if thinking. “Let me get changed. I heard the hospital has extended their clinic hours, am I right, young locksmith?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">As he got up and walked to his room, I glanced at my clock and realized it was 3 hours. Funny eh,<span style=""> </span>why would I spent 3 whole hours on one man, an old man whom everyone else has given up upon?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Getting up to leave, I stole a glance at the old picture of him and his late wife. Somehow, deep within me, I suppose that was what she would want someone to do for him. To unlock the man who has spent his lifetime unlocking other locks, that in the process forgetting how he could finally unlock himself. I guess sometimes, even the master needs a disciple’s reminder. Or simpler, because every lock is worth the effort opening.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">You never know what you'll see on the inside.
<br /></p> HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-36820976543904654282009-06-20T12:51:00.002+08:002009-06-20T12:57:31.232+08:00Grandpa's Extra Toy Gun<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102); font-weight: bold;">Things were never the same when we brought you and your brother back to Alor Setar. At that time, it was just you, your brother and your cousin as the only kids in the house.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Grandpa was a strong man. He was a seasoned plumber, an experienced carpenter, and a self-made man. He was, in the words of many who’ve known him for long, a diamond that refused to be polished or cut. And perhaps, that was what made him tough, capable of enduring pressure and problems. A man of few words but faithful in actions, a father that showed his love to his children in the quiet and unseen ways, a husband that never failed to be there when the wife needed him most.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">And like any typical Chinese businessman, he started small and slowly built his little kingdom. In all the ways of the business world, he endured his fair shares of losses, savoured the moments of gain, and above all stayed faithful to few principles through his life: Faithfulness, love and family.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 102); font-weight: bold;">One day, Grandpa bought 4 water guns. “For the children to play.”</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">For as long as I could remember, Grandpa laboured with both hands. Work is one; at the dining table, he ate with chopsticks in one and bowl in the other. He smoked cigarettes he rolled up on his own and habitually had a cut open tin can in his left palm to collect the ashes. It never occurred to me that he would actually do anything with only one hand.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">He walked away quickly with the water guns, and I turned to Grandma and asked, “Why did Dad buy 4 toy guns? There are only 3 kids, so who’s the fourth gun for?”</span></span><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">So when my mom decided to enroll me and my brother for music classes, he wasn’t as adamant against it as Grandma. When I was 8 years old, with whatever few words he spoke, he said to me,<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">“Be the best in your school, and I’ll buy you a violin.”<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">With eyes wide open, I shrieked, “But Kong-kong, violin very expensive one!”<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">“That’s why you must be the best in your school.” He taught me then, that there always is a price to pay to be the best. And sometimes, it’s a price worth paying.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Now to think about it, there were 2 things I remember about Grandpa and his 2 hands. Maybe, in many ways, he believed that the best things come from both hands. It was effort, energy, and everything. But also, it was his hands that held his entire family together when things got rough and tough. In tears, he watched his little kingdom burnt down on the second day of Chinese New Year in 1998, and in his quiet but labourous ways he rebuilt it in less than a year.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;">Grandma smiled with that didn’t-you-know look all over her face. “Who else? It’s for him to play with your kids.”</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">And when my mom reminded me of the story of Grandpa buying the extra toy gun, it somehow didn’t fit into the picture. What would he do with the other hand then, if he only held the water gun in one hand?<br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Mom smiled. “He held your hand while both of you went shooting your brother and cousin.” I chuckled, and it all made sense again. After people have left and gone, and after all that’s left are merely memories, one thing for sure is that we never forget such little things that speaks of their greatness. And in all of his ways, it was those little things that ascertained me of my grandpa’s greatness. His violin, his toy gun, and above all, his two strong hands.<br /></span></div>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-60641442409482751042009-05-28T10:35:00.004+08:002009-05-28T12:09:20.091+08:0010 Minutes<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigisZU8eNA36P1J_LGAdGvCoyzAuhASzqEXfkN-TjIk4gmZQ9wWUblJIUNWPSx-GGgfbaQ6JPRoItViwybgsu1FjMRsorhg0jee_5rfcqUKXVkJ6PbexEv1WZKoHIaU24FhWg7wRHkxoQ/s1600-h/IMG_8726.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigisZU8eNA36P1J_LGAdGvCoyzAuhASzqEXfkN-TjIk4gmZQ9wWUblJIUNWPSx-GGgfbaQ6JPRoItViwybgsu1FjMRsorhg0jee_5rfcqUKXVkJ6PbexEv1WZKoHIaU24FhWg7wRHkxoQ/s320/IMG_8726.JPG" alt="" 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margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><i style="">I must get up, I must get up</i>. It was 5.30am, the hour when the world was still sound asleep, when nothing stirred and the voice of silence was in the air, there was only one reason she had to pull herself up.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Like the mornings before, she felt the warm and gentle peck on her cheeks. One so familiar, one so endearing which she grew up with, one she could relate to even after all these years<span style=""> </span>and all that had changed. She rubbed her eyes, making sure she could see clearly. She didn’t stop at the mirror to look at herself. <i style="">He still loved me no matter how I looked like.</i> Slowly opening the door, squeaking and creaking. Gently shutting it, so as to not wake her siblings up.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">The kitchen lights were on. The rhythmic flipping of newspapers put a small smile on her face. She knew what was <span style=""> </span>install for her. Hands reaching for her head, pressing her hair down, she walked slowly into the kitchen. Her hero, her man, was sitting at the kitchen table. Newspapers <span style=""> </span>in his hands, reading lens over his nose. He looked up, the charming smile curved around the edges of his lips. Her heart melted, again, as always and as ever.
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“Morning princess.”</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">The sight of him sitting at the table, calm and steady, reminded her of the good days they had. The days while he would still pick her up and throw her into the air; the days where he would still spin her until she goes dizzy and eventually fall into his arms; the days she would cling onto his neck whenever she’s afraid of the thunder or when the lights went out.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">She quickly walked to the sink, behind him, as she fought back the tears. She woke up every morning, at that ghostly hour, just to hear those words. Words that were now hard to come out, words that no longer sounded the same at any other hour of the day. She knew that if she missed this moment, she would have to wait till tomorrow morning to hear it.
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“Morning daddy,” she said, trying her best to not choke on her tears. “Did you sleep well last night?”</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_PIXLXi9e3f1Edb-9FgYpYsd4GSefyJV3WoPiCiHncs-bdN-y86QHWpfQWK09drzTNKn4L-Yo5ip2r3UXVwbHmTjbbmTsQ9KZOuXeiAUlkFjJNQItZXwuNygoy7naYFerUWS5o3nn9w/s1600-h/IMG_8623.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr_PIXLXi9e3f1Edb-9FgYpYsd4GSefyJV3WoPiCiHncs-bdN-y86QHWpfQWK09drzTNKn4L-Yo5ip2r3UXVwbHmTjbbmTsQ9KZOuXeiAUlkFjJNQItZXwuNygoy7naYFerUWS5o3nn9w/s320/IMG_8623.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340720283987488674" border="0" /></a>Her hands reached for the coffee powder container but immediately retracted it. She forgot and remembered immediately that daddy could no longer take coffee. <i style="">It would make the symptoms worse</i>. She poured 2 glasses of milk and walked back to the table. She sat beside daddy and rested her head on his shoulder.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“Yes..” he replied slowly and softly. “I slept well. Did.. my princesssss.. sleep well?”
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“Yes daddy.” <i style="">I dreamt about you, daddy. I dreamt that you were alright, you were fine. I dreamt that you held me like last time and hugged me when you came walking back in the door. I dreamt that you walked me down the aisle and gave me away.
<br /></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><i style=""><o:p></o:p></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><o:p> </o:p></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><o:p> </o:p></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><i style="">I dreamt that you were still healthy. That everything was fine and ok.</i></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><i style="">
<br /></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Her hands locked into his. She felt the flesh of his palms. Hands roughen by hard work, the years of labour and struggles he endured before he was struck with Parkinson. How he gave up the best years of his life for the family, and in the months leading to his retirement he developed the symptoms. Now, in due reversal, the family is taking care of him.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“Princesss..” his slurred voice, reminded her that sometimes things simply do not turn out the way we hope it would.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“I regrettt.. that I didddd not.. give yoouuuu… my beesst..”
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--> <!--[endif]--></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">The tears came out again. She hated it every time he went into that talk. She turned to him and held his face in her hands. She looked straight into his eyes. </p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8pibRX6Rwa4M1MfNFRL7mAzwtjSwWuFfZUJ8b8EmHUb2moJqceIG8F29CQGfIVPzgjh6dLWDyLuGVwBQQ-5cqlGiOb6zZprESVcQ77qCP1pQSbJuRmy7VNfAX0PxlFf1vH-wuhclfIs/s1600-h/IMG_8603.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8pibRX6Rwa4M1MfNFRL7mAzwtjSwWuFfZUJ8b8EmHUb2moJqceIG8F29CQGfIVPzgjh6dLWDyLuGVwBQQ-5cqlGiOb6zZprESVcQ77qCP1pQSbJuRmy7VNfAX0PxlFf1vH-wuhclfIs/s320/IMG_8603.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340718981502995074" border="0" /></a></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“Daddy, you don’t need to do anything to be my best. <i style="">Our</i> best.” He smiled, and slowly reached for her tears, wiping it away. She felt the tremors in his fingers as he stroked her cheeks again. She knew it was time to take the medication.
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">The medication was kept in a drawer, somewhere near the table. She dreaded the moment of daddy taking his medication every morning. It would mean that daddy would become cranky, the muscle spasm would still kick in every now and then, he would continue to stammer for the rest of the day. But he needed it to reduce the pain and the frequency of the spasms. She took the correct tablets and planted them in daddy’s palm. She turned away, not able to bear the sight of him taking his medication. He swallowed it with a gulp of the milk, and that was the day’s turning point. From that moment onwards, things wouldn’t be the same anymore.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">And just as before, she would hold his hands, walk out of the kitchen, switched off <span style=""> </span>the lights, and walked daddy back to his bedroom. And as always, she would part with daddy when they reached daddy’s bedroom door. Just like before, she would tiptoe to reach for daddy’s forehead. And as daddy bent over to reach her height, she would kiss him on his forehead.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“Goodnight daddy.”</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">“Goodnight princesss. I love yoouu”</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">And just as always, with the sound of daddy's bedroom door closing behind her, she would run back into her room, closed the doors, and wept uncontrollably again. For all the tears and pain, those 10 minutes with daddy in the morning, was worth it all. And for all that has changed, some things still remain the same.
<br /></p> HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-9428875677080700642009-04-12T02:27:00.004+08:002009-04-12T02:35:37.637+08:00Second Chance - An Easter Story<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8bzzVPIZGT_Oe6q3za-5GGp_M5SC4snMQm6zW3i7kpkG3ckSGIxKWl0hs2Kqc4SweMXklVwv8KPgCIGReZ9BTZVd_KlT3uuqmNh2V9oyHLxySTbPlZ1zH8eOsDPJg2pmbBZJsW9tlyI/s1600-h/IMG_6103.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8bzzVPIZGT_Oe6q3za-5GGp_M5SC4snMQm6zW3i7kpkG3ckSGIxKWl0hs2Kqc4SweMXklVwv8KPgCIGReZ9BTZVd_KlT3uuqmNh2V9oyHLxySTbPlZ1zH8eOsDPJg2pmbBZJsW9tlyI/s320/IMG_6103.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323503753081846290" border="0" /></a>The airport had no marble floors, no air conditioning, no bright lights or huge advertisements. Unlike the one he had departed from back in the States, it was dirty, dusty, and hot. There were no security guards on duty, no information counters, no taxis waiting to pick passengers up. He walked past some bearded men who gave him the hostile stare, others broke into small gossips as he heaved his knapsack over his shoulder and walked out. He let out a sigh, and in his heart he said to himself,<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I ran away from a city of lights and noise, but little did I know I’d end up in a land of darkness.</span><br /><br /><br />While walking down the dirt road, stepping upon rocks and pebbles while avoiding potholes as huge as manhole lids, he couldn’t help but question his decision. Yes, he had wanted to run away from home so badly; Yes, he felt so unloved and uncared for; Yes, his friends had backstabbed and betrayed him for their personal gain… But here, in a land so foreign to him, where people spoke in a language he couldn’t understand, where folks were dressed in gowns and turbans so unfamiliar, where passersby clad in blue coverings from face to toe hushed their children past him, he finally conceded to a simple fact,<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">That while he had left in search of love and hope, he had stumbled into a land of hatred and unforgiveness.</span><br /><br /><br />And he soon discovered why. Walking past miles and miles of mountainous terrains, after many hours of trekking on the rocky land, he saw what his countrymen had done to this state. He saw buildings with walls that would never embrace the roof; he saw piles of rubble and rocks lying beside tents and makeshift homes; he saw little children dressed in torn and patched jackets running around a small fire under the watchful eyes of adults with an eye bandage or a limb in a cast. He finally saw a world beyond his own, he finally witnessed what pain truly was, he finally experienced what brokenness was truly about.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />He had walked out of a home that kept him warm and safe into a land of no warmth and security.</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUVqkIwThfHKfx-5Xda_WOk1X4vwTx2wMev5kF-8mtU9IhxIncFlv_7o-zUxpJUe9cUIEoR6WFhQ6DAoY8C3ZsZFRmxq874u3UDWYR7UZcD5vcoS-JmmzWbRMaUjgvBGAMUEKLtli9K4/s1600-h/IMG_6222.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUVqkIwThfHKfx-5Xda_WOk1X4vwTx2wMev5kF-8mtU9IhxIncFlv_7o-zUxpJUe9cUIEoR6WFhQ6DAoY8C3ZsZFRmxq874u3UDWYR7UZcD5vcoS-JmmzWbRMaUjgvBGAMUEKLtli9K4/s320/IMG_6222.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323503978801504098" border="0" /></a>He slowly inched closer and closer to the rubbled village. He was growing weary. He had to have a drink, he wanted some food, he desperately needed some rest. “Hello?” he cried out. The children stopped in their footsteps and looked up at him, hands stuffed into their little mouths, not knowing how to react. He was about to reach out to them, bend over and cuddle them, when suddenly an old man pushed him aside while motioning for the children to go into the tents. Still lying on the ground, he was grabbed by the collar and pushed even further away. Wobbling to get up, he looked around and saw the children gone. Adults were standing at a distance with sticks in their hands, ready to assault. He walked away, passed the tents and saw the children huddling inside through the creaks of the canvas.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">He was fleeing a society that he struggled to survive in, but never did he want to be in a community that rejected him.</span><br /><br /><br />There was a barren tree in front of him. Throwing the bag onto the ground and nesting his head against the bark, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep. He saw his friends in college, he had dinner with his parents, played catch with his golden retriever. He even had time to hang out with his girlfriend, take a stroll with her in the park, and watch the sunset over the beautiful lake in downtown Manhattan. But alas, such a beautiful dream was short-lived. A pebble hit him right on the forehead, his dream was dashed and his eyes opened to a group of children ten feet away throwing rocks at him. A few more rocks came flying by, and he dodged them as he stumbled to get up.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">He remembered the goodness he had had, taken for granted, only when it was all taken away from him.</span><br /><br /><br />Walking away from the children, he suddenly saw an angry mob approaching him. He turned around to run, but the mob soon caught up with him. In his haste he fell onto the ground, face kissing the road and even tasting the bitter soil. The mob surrounded him, snatched his bag from his shoulders and kicked him. Simultaneously the blows of the sticks and bats came raining down upon his body. There were screams in a language he would later discover was Urdu, and on the faces of the mobsters was anger, hatred, bitterness. They were screaming at him, as if he had brought upon the people there atrocities so great that even God Himself could not forgive.<br /><br /><br />Yet he realized, with all the kicks and beatings, he was supposed to feel the pain. He didn’t scream in agony, he didn’t grimace in pain. He was being rolled around on the ground, trying to dodge the kicks and the bats, but still he felt no pain. The blows were cushioned, the kicks were softer than they seemed. Am I being preserved? Am I being protected?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FBAIG0AOGelx_kqatg4kV-9tBFEvcbnIIYJzsF0iqxCz8o38hJabBOu4aLvQ-DTSmiudRa6KSgP2UjxF_I_6cmGKixkYlWtkWKaHWcDVirroz246Dxk49nL3mRPrR9Y2hq1Jnv_LQ3M/s1600-h/IMG_6219.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FBAIG0AOGelx_kqatg4kV-9tBFEvcbnIIYJzsF0iqxCz8o38hJabBOu4aLvQ-DTSmiudRa6KSgP2UjxF_I_6cmGKixkYlWtkWKaHWcDVirroz246Dxk49nL3mRPrR9Y2hq1Jnv_LQ3M/s320/IMG_6219.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323503756077779234" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">For all the insecurity he had experienced in a land of peace and harmony, he finally experienced security amid an angry mob.</span><br /><br /><br />Was this a point of no return? Was there still a chance to go home? He regretted leaving home,<br />he shouldn’t have left. But there was nothing more that he could do. It was too late, and the rest was beyond his control. He needed a miracle to save him, he would need divine intervention to rescue him from the state he was in.<br /><br /><br />There was a loud gun shot. The people dropped their bats, panicked and dispersed. He was semi-conscious by then, and the last images he saw were of people in army uniform surrounding him and tending to his injuries. He saw bandages soaked in blood, he felt some army men wrapping his legs up. The wounds must be severe, he thought. The men were wearing blue berets with a blue and white logo on the top left corner.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">He finally understood that miracles are only found in the harshest times of trouble.</span><br /><br /><br />He was asleep for many days. Word did travel back home, of a young boy that was found by the United Nations peacekeepers along the India-Pakistan border, beaten and severed by a mob. Little did he know that people back home did care, that while he was away and while he was exploring a devastated state, he was searched for and waited for. He was flown into La Guardia Airport, and pushed through the arrival doors in a wheelchair. Vision blurred, he saw a small crowd with banners waiting beyond the doors. He knew who they were. They were people who loved him. People who waited and will still wait for him.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Deep down, he sank into the assurance that there are always second chances for those who chose to return.</span><br /><br /><br />He didn’t need to read the banners clearly to know what they said.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Welcome home.</span>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-72194545000088270422009-03-22T18:44:00.004+08:002009-03-22T21:06:46.689+08:00For All It's Worth<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CJoEHoG%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" 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mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">One evening on the train, I was reading my notes when I caught a girl stealing looks at me. Sheepishly avoiding my gaze, she hung onto her mother’s blouse tightly, head buried deep within the folds of her mother’s skirt.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">“I’m so sorry,” the mother explained. “She got very excited when she saw the stethoscope in your bag.” My hand reached for my bag and I realized that I had forgotten to zip my bag properly, hence revealing its contents to anyone standing beside me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">No worries ma’am, I replied with a smile. I’m actually just a first year medical student.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">The little girl turned to look at me upon seeing me and her mom engaging in a comfortable conversation. <i style="">Don’t you want to talk to this ko-ko here? He’s going to be a doctor one day!</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">“<i style="">Ko-ko</i>,” came the sweet voice of a 5-year-old, “what’s it like to be a doctor?”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">I hesitated. Before my eyes flashed the many images of children I had visited in the cancer paediatric ward, lying in their beds, heads bald, some with bodies mummified with tubes. The agonizing shrill screams of children every time they were given an injection was still ringing in my ears. Corridors of people lining up, waiting hours to see the doctor in the government hospital; the sight of hopelessness in patients from ICU as they waited for their time to come; the weary looks of loved ones as they forced a smile, covering their tears and pain in vain… is that how a doctor’s life is like?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style=""><span style="">Well, it’s like being your mummy… You see, we take care of people when they fall sick, and we help them get better!</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /><i style=""><span style=""></span></i><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">“Mummy said it’s hard to be a doctor… is it true?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">My gaze dropped to the floor as I fumbled for an answer. I had done terribly in the last examination. Many of my seniors had failed and dropped out from medical school. Some who had made it past the theory stages never survived the clinical years. It’s too difficult, they had said. It’s impossible, many had agreed. Textbooks and reference materials, research papers and journals are merely the beginning. The long hours, the on-call duties, the rotation and attachments, the stench of gangrene and the strain every time a CPR is performed… isn’t it hard to be one? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style=""><span style="">All it takes is a little bit of patience and hard work. And a bit more courage when giving a little girl like you an injection!</span></i><span style=""> The little girl giggled.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">The train continued to sail smoothly over the rails, bouncing occasionally over rough patches. “Why do you want to be a doctor?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">Wasn’t that my interview question, when I had applied to enter IMU? And the reason I told my interviewers, well because I want to give back to the society, and because I know that our society would be better off with more doctors who have compassion for the people. Do I believe in that reason? And oh, had it not been for that innocent girl, wouldn’t I have repeated the blunt and harsh truth that I had always used to reply so many others whenever they asked me the same question? Of how I so badly wanted to be a lawyer or a businessman, of my dreams of making money and being rich so I could give back to my parents what they deserved? Or, of how much I wanted to live up to my dreams of being paid to argue and fight a case in court, or meet hundreds and thousands of people in the world? But truth be said, this girl deserves a better answer, doesn’t she?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style=""><span style="">Because I know that this world would be so much nicer if there were fewer sad and sick people, don’t you think?</span></i><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">And I saw that smile on her face. The smile of a happy and content little girl. The smile that a girl gives to anyone who hands her a lollipop, or her favourite chocolate, or an ice-cream. My heart melted, my eyes nearly swelled. Deep inside, something told me that she’d make a good doctor.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">The train approached the station. It would soon come to a complete halt. The doors would slide to the sides and remain open for 9 seconds before sliding back. So as the train nearly came to a halt, the girl urgently squeezed in one last question, “<i style="">Ko-ko</i>, do you like being a doctor?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="">Bravely, I looked straight into her brown round eyes. Eyes filled with so many questions unanswered, so many wonders unexplained, and yet so much hope. Without taking a breath, I blurted,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style=""><span style="">Of course I do! I’d do anything to make sure a little girl like you would never have to lose that pretty smile of yours when you fall sick.</span></i><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style=""><o:p>
<br /></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Within the next 9 seconds, she put her arms around my neck in a quick hug, hurried a “Thank you” and ran through the doors, hands locked within her mom’s. As the train sped off and away towards my destination, I sighed and reminded myself, that for all the pain and difficulties that came with this calling, and for all that it was worth, people like that little girl still deserved my best, now and in the future. I knew every word said was genuinely from the bottom of my heart, and I also knew that it was a reason that I could believe in. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">
<br /> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]-->
<br /> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And essentially, that’s all the reason I need to keep me going on when things get tough. <o:p></o:p></span></p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-79236573465557459992009-02-13T22:32:00.006+08:002009-02-13T22:49:08.747+08:00The Greatest Valentine - Valentine's Day Post<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzxeZvss7aMjHwHWOa4eXpPWMuOC-gahfbK3Sxa-zNyNPy0g9681zAIxXpnTljZ9qbLUScI6jbx0ciWcuJYH0I_xDNkH3vuStWkAxROZscwpkjtwsI97dgXLNxOc9VD-xj0PBZKIyjgcc/s1600-h/IMG_8002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzxeZvss7aMjHwHWOa4eXpPWMuOC-gahfbK3Sxa-zNyNPy0g9681zAIxXpnTljZ9qbLUScI6jbx0ciWcuJYH0I_xDNkH3vuStWkAxROZscwpkjtwsI97dgXLNxOc9VD-xj0PBZKIyjgcc/s320/IMG_8002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302292090269828738" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;">From the drawer she pulled out that velvet box. Gently, she lifted the cover and stared at its contents for a moment. As she brought out that elegant chain of white gold with a sparkling diamond pendant in the middle and lifted it up to her neck, I saw the tears rolling from her eyes again. </span><i style="font-family: georgia;">No, Emily, please… please don’t cry again…</i></span></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>ZH-CN</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> <w:dontbreakconstrainedforcedtables/> 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mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">That diamond necklace was my gift for her. She deserved it. She was my faithful and lovely wife. She always was the princess that I looked forward to going home to, every evening after work, without fail. <i style="">Emily, I’m so sorry for leaving…</i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">John was already fidgeting in the chair when she walked out of her room. My impatient son! Haha… he <i style="">had</i> grown up over the years! Now he was already a handsome five-year-old boy, just in his second year of preschool. Bright, affectionate, helpful. Emily used to tease me, saying that the best of John came from her. He was wearing that nice shirt Mom had bought for him. Emily had fussed over the idea of Mom giving him such an expensive shirt, but I will always remember what Mom patiently told her, <i style="">“Let us grandparents spoil the kids in a way you parents will never do.”</i></span> </p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">All that John knew though, was that they were heading for a lovely dinner in Café France. My best friend Si Han owned the place. He had been such a kind soul, taking good care of my wife and son. Every Valentine’s Day, he would invite them to his café for a sumptuous meal, without fail, bill on the house. <i style="">Thanks buddy, you know I owe you so much</i>.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">John was ecstatic. He was singing happily in the car, and Emily was trying to keep up with him. But Emily, oh Emily… The brokenness in her heart, the tears welling up behind her sunglasses, the pain she tried so hard to hide from John. My princess. She had always stayed strong before our son. She had always been the amazing mother, and the miraculous dad I should’ve been. <i style="">Emily… if only I knew…</i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">They reached the café. The valet took the car, and it disappeared into the underground carpark as they walked graciously into the café. Deep red balloons with scarlet heart-shaped velvet boards made the interior a sight to behold. Scented candle lights, crisps white sheets draped over table and chair, fresh roses on every table. <i style="">Good job Si Han! It’s lovely!</i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">They quickly decided on the meal that they wanted. As they sat down and waited, John looked around and saw young couples crooning to each other. He watched them hold hands and whisper into each other’s ears. My curious son! And he asked Emily, <i style="">“Mummy, what’s going on? Why is everyone so cheeky today?”</i><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgJgYVptA3KE2roViWSu9o3GvFFrP4h8ARx4fWXHRIPvUzcG2Waip5_4WZQBj2XZ8h0cGxSUqWH5bNDPeuGDzRDEap9gmL9aCW8uuBsaICSKZ5EkXKnRzq_kzZyc8-ulm-BFAzdNQoCk/s1600-h/IMG_7812.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpgJgYVptA3KE2roViWSu9o3GvFFrP4h8ARx4fWXHRIPvUzcG2Waip5_4WZQBj2XZ8h0cGxSUqWH5bNDPeuGDzRDEap9gmL9aCW8uuBsaICSKZ5EkXKnRzq_kzZyc8-ulm-BFAzdNQoCk/s320/IMG_7812.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302291868704530738" border="0" /></a></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Emily laughed, ever so happily. John blushed, wondering if he had asked a silly question. My princess took John’s hands, and slowly told him, “Well, you see, it’s Valentine’s Day today John…”</span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">“What’s Valentine’s Day for, Mummy?”</span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">My princess caught her breath at that question. I knew what was in her mind. A tear came to my eye too. <i style="">Valentine’s Day was the day I met you at that silly Group Date event back in high school. Valentine’s Day was the day I first told you that I loved you and you ran away from me even though your house was two miles away. Valentine’s Day was the day you finally squealed and jumped into my arms, screaming “Yes!” at the top of your voice, with that gorgeous ring on your finger. Valentine’s Day was the day you changed your name and I shared mine with you.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style=""><o:p><br /></o:p></i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style=""><o:p> </o:p></i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">“Valentine’s Day, John my darling, is a special day for lovers all over the world… to celebrate their love…”</span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style="">But Valentine’s Day was also the day I blundered, the day I messed up my schedule and ended up rushing to the diamond shop. But Valentine’s Day was also the day, of all days, that I beat that traffic light without seeing that oncoming truck.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style=""><o:p><br /></o:p></i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style=""><o:p> </o:p></i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style="">Valentine’s Day was the day I left my princess behind.</i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">“John, do you know why we come here every year on this special day? It’s because many many years back, even before you were born, Daddy first kissed me here, and gave me this ring. Daddy asked me to marry him. And then we had you.”</span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style="">Valentine’s Day was the day where you came tearing into the mortuary, screaming and fighting with all the doctors and nurses, until Si Han had to pull you back. Valentine’s Day was the day you finally stopped waiting for me. And on the final hour of Valentine’s Day, Si Han gave you that velvet box the police found in my wrecked car.</i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">My princess never continued from there. She started sobbing quietly, and John was at a loss. <i style="">Princess! Princess! Oh princess…<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCvE9aua6LEr6z3v2Q_gh4uwa7-Lg3zeCPyeWhdUKihv4dIQEGDWNoJlONh3JQu89ZzLTCIHv32ikBlx1tdwGl6i51QH-bQYTDeaLXxbZj9cN6qnDWdkSoBOxDS3E0VpuW2G-NnnAnKA/s1600-h/IMG_7799.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCvE9aua6LEr6z3v2Q_gh4uwa7-Lg3zeCPyeWhdUKihv4dIQEGDWNoJlONh3JQu89ZzLTCIHv32ikBlx1tdwGl6i51QH-bQYTDeaLXxbZj9cN6qnDWdkSoBOxDS3E0VpuW2G-NnnAnKA/s320/IMG_7799.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302292909237798338" border="0" /></a>John held up a tissue slowly to his Mummy’s eyes. “Mummy, please don’t cry…” As she wiped the tears away, she could only smile back at John. The food finally arrived. John was slow in finishing, for the first time. And Emily was nothing but playing with the food.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Finally, my son, my brave and wonderful son, looked up into my princess’ eyes. “Mummy?”</span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="font-weight: bold; text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style="">I will be your Valentine.</i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">My princess, stunned, put down her fork and spoon, and as those tears started coming all over again, she opened her arms to John. He got off the chair and went right into her arms. She held him, ever so tightly, and for the first time, she cried in front of our son. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b style="">“Sweetheart, you are always, and forever, my Valentine.”</b></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">My heart melted all over again. Those were the words I had said to my princess that evening when the moon was a perfect round marble in a black silk sky. Back when Si Han still had the second floor opened to the skies, basked in that layer of imaginary snow, I slipped that ring on her finger, and said those very words into her ears. And she too, cried, and wept in my arms. </span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Now I know, that the greatest love of all never dies, even after the love of one’s life has come and gone. I know too, that no matter what will come their way, they will always be safe in each other’s love.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;">Happy Valentine’s Day.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style=""><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style="">“And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth till the hour of separation.” – Kahlil Gibran, ‘The Prophet’<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-10752018470179163022009-01-23T22:11:00.003+08:002009-01-23T22:12:47.651+08:00The Magical Rain Dance - Mummy's Birthday Story<div style="text-align: justify;">When I was small, probably 4 or 5, the rain was one moment that I truly looked forward to. Not only would I be able to get off the high chair and stop doing the maths questions my mom prepared for me, I also get to run out into the rain.<br /><br /><br />My mom ain’t the typical mother, neither ‘loose’ till the extent that I can do anything, nor ‘strict’ till I get deprived of everything that’s fun and nice. So what she’d do was she’d dress me and my brother in a tiny raincoat before letting us run out into the porch as the rain started to pour.<br /><br /><br />The rain was not the best part. Seriously, it was just like a huge shower that fell all over the porch. Once, I even asked my mom what was the difference between rain and taking a bathe, and if I haven’t mistaken, my mom said that you can’t use soap or take of your shirt in the rain. I wonder now, how was it that I never asked her why.<br /><br /><br />It was how my mom would run out into the rain along with me and my brother that makes the rain truly special. It was my mom who taught us the special ‘rain’ dance. First time running out into the rain, we were lost, not knowing what to do. She stepped out, opened her hands wide, looked face up into the teary skies, and spun herself round and round. We followed suit, and realized that it was just so much fun.<br /><br /><br />Then my mom would take my hand in one, and my brother’s in the other. And as I grabbed my brother’s free hand, forming a circle, we would start spinning around like a small dance by a bonfire. Laughing all the way, occasionally slipping on the wet floor followed by a perfect land on the ass, getting up still laughing despite the pain, and the dance just goes on and on.<br /><br /><br />When the rain slowly subsides and it was time to get back inside, my mom would take out those huge towels and wrap me and my brother up to dry us. Still giggling and laughing, my mom would rub us warm and hard, till we’re completely dry.<br /><br /><br />“Mummy, why does it rain?”<br /><br /><br />Still rubbing away, my mom said without even thinking, “Coz God loves the trees and the grass… if He didn’t water them, then they would die.”<br /><br /><br />“Then why doesn’t God water us too?”<br /><br /><br />Our eyes met, and with that magical smile, she simply said, “Coz you already have Mummy right?” I think we both laughed as my mom hugged me tightly that day.<br /><br /><br />Though it’s been a long time since I actually last danced in the rain, or felt the warmth of a huge towel wrapped around my body, I’m nevertheless grateful that some things still remain. Like, that beautiful smile that paints my mom’s face, the warmth of her love that knows no boundaries, and very simply, the magical mom that still is, very much, magical in every way I've ever known.<br /><br /><br />Happy Birthday Mummy, I love you.<br /></div>HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765956464758760181.post-82975420339813649302009-01-07T18:13:00.004+08:002009-01-08T21:41:13.082+08:00Remembering<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkL4WpKsBUpiGn5Yk7-Jib9L23MwFJ7EqfDyyBZA-bb-MGs4zkgA_8SUYFc_uqXUQjDwuetu82dKtVQcgrED8kSIz-90sepcpW1veiA-tgL2-uYisF6UZkCffe_32zjVACikcyIQL4kZ0/s1600-h/n530969583_1260225_3584.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" 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mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">The first thing she saw when she opened the door, was him. Lying on the couch, dead sleep, still, with that gentle snore. The snore, that familiar soft toad’s croaking, reminded her of how long she hadn’t been home.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">And she remembered that night when she first found him sleeping on the couch when she came home late. She woke him up, and asked him why didn't he sleep upstairs instead. Rubbing his eyes with one hand and stroking her face with the other, he replied,</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Coz the bed’s not a resting place without you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The house was orderly, much to her surprise. Maybe not spick and span, and certainly not as clean as she'd have kept it had she been around. But clean it was, nevertheless. The dining area had fresh flowers on top. The curtains were neatly drawn behind the lace. The kitchen sink was empty and dry. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">She remembered those days when he would walk in from work, drop the bag onto the floor, tear his shirt off and have it flung across the hall, grab her hand, plop her onto the couch, collapse into her lap and fall into a deep sleep. She remembered the times when she complained and scolded him for being such a mess – and messy<span style=""> </span>too – yet his reply, though said when half asleep, brought a smile to her face,</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Coz you’re the one thing right in my life. The rest doesn't matter as much.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">She saw the stethoscope on the dining table, and a tear came to her eye. She remembered how hard he had worked to become a doctor. She remembered preparing coffee as he studied late into the night, preparing for the final specialist paper. And all the <i style="">char siew pao</i> she sneaked into the doctor’s rest stations in the wards for him to gobble in between duty hours! The day he finally walked out of the panel interview rooms – the last and most difficult part of the final paper – beaming with joy and pride, he took her hands, fought back his tears and whispered into her ears,</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“This is all that I’ve worked for, and this is all that you truly deserve.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pRohtd6nkBFjq23SLWvO4RY5Fmb4RZts9lLqRLj4ANQOKuQR0uXXB5HIJIGb96ar3H6cTeXAs54chjP2j3vLJCfHqXj72_6W6-Md5vGljt8yZfq9Dx7aqCvYrXwYS6OVvwgdEeMRoew/s1600-h/n530969583_1260185_6346.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pRohtd6nkBFjq23SLWvO4RY5Fmb4RZts9lLqRLj4ANQOKuQR0uXXB5HIJIGb96ar3H6cTeXAs54chjP2j3vLJCfHqXj72_6W6-Md5vGljt8yZfq9Dx7aqCvYrXwYS6OVvwgdEeMRoew/s320/n530969583_1260185_6346.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288493442777223218" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">Near the stethoscope was a loaf of bread. She then remembered that particular evening when she had stumbled across a tupperware in his bag. There was a sandwich, with butter and sugar, but the bread had round holes all over. Weird, she thought, and as she took the sandwich out to throw it away, she saw the loaf of bread on the table. Expired, and mouldy. Angry, disappointed and hurt, she confronted him. She yelled and shouted at him. He would take her out every Sunday night to the nicest restaurants in town, and he was eating mouldy bread on weekdays. <i style="">How could you still eat mouldy bread? How could you spend so much on me and starve yourself? </i><span style=""> </span>She finally succumbed into his arms, and his soft response broke her heart into a thousand pieces,</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“I’m sorry that I can’t give you the best that you deserve, but I’m never sorry that I give you my best that I can afford, in whatever way possible.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">Just a few more years, and I promise you that things will get better</span>.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">He coughed, and her thoughts stirred. She turned around, just in time to see him turn over onto his other side on the couch, and the gentle snore went back into rhythm. She gazed at a tired man, a weary doctor, a burdened soul. She remembered those young and youthful days, when they had exchanged ideals of the future and talked about what life would be next time. And when it came to his turn, he never really talked about being a doctor.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">And one day, while they were both lying on the green pastures in New Zealand on a lazy weekend – breaking away from their different routines and classes in uni – she asked him again about his dreams. <i style="">Don’t you want to save the world?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“I'd rather be a champion in your heart than try save the world.”
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">They had returned to Malaysia together. While he was still a houseman and they, a young couple, every morning before the sun rose, she would send him off to work with a flask of hot coffee and an apple. How he would routinely turn around at the door, put away his bag and the flask, hold her face, kiss her on the forehead, look her in the eyes and say,</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“I’ll come back and get you... after saving the world.” And that cheeky smile all over his face!</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbikp-aDosnqctjwG0yyhPr31yF6YwT45Rs-NZkEXDntHdd57J-e2ac6IOexqQfIfhV4DBkb424lnb04Y6y25mnfWTFy1J2dOC4HcgGlKNR_hBQbLf5lOSIE6kaea-jwWsQE45_VwL630/s1600-h/n530969583_1260201_752.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbikp-aDosnqctjwG0yyhPr31yF6YwT45Rs-NZkEXDntHdd57J-e2ac6IOexqQfIfhV4DBkb424lnb04Y6y25mnfWTFy1J2dOC4HcgGlKNR_hBQbLf5lOSIE6kaea-jwWsQE45_VwL630/s320/n530969583_1260201_752.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288493014651679250" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">And he never failed with that promise. No matter how late and how tired, no matter the number of calls and the overtime duties, he still returned to her. He would be grouchy and grumpy, complaining of backaches and sores, but he still came back. Didn’t that matter enough? <i style="">Shouldn’t</i> that matter enough?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Somehow she survived those years of being there for him, but after he became a specialist, after he came back from serving in Somalia with the Malaysian peacekeeping troops, things changed. The fire in his eyes, the ‘going-out-to-save-the-World’ spirit, the passion of healing and treating patients, simply disappeared. He would no longer come home with that usual smile on his face. He no longer grabbed her from behind by surprise and spun her around. He just simply put down the bag, took off his shirt, gently dragged her up the stairs, and slept on her lap. No more conversations, no more laughter, no more surprises.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">So when an offer came from Price Waterhouse, she took it up. It wasn’t that she wanted to leave him, rather she no longer knew how to stay on. And that night when she broke the news to him, he just looked down at the floor, stumped, and asked quietly,</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“When will you come back?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">She was walking out, bitter, hurt, and disappointed. <span style="font-style: italic;">Why don't you fight for me?Why don't you at least stop me? Why let me walk out? Couldn't you at least tell me how much you'd miss me?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">And he said right before she opened the door, "Darling, I need you."</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">You need me? Is it just the lap that you use as a pillow, or am I the cheap servant that manages your house?</span> She regretted the way she lashed out at him as his reply came softly,</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">"I need you because I love you."
<br /></p>
<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">2 months ago, when she walked out with the luggage bag, she hated herself so much. She despised herself for leaving the man that stood by her, the only man that fought for her, the only man that would cry for and over her. 2 months of staying with her parents made her realize, that while he needed her to manage his life, she too simply couldn’t live without him.
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The TV in front of him was on, volume at its lowest. She pulled the remote out of his hands, intending to turn it off when she recognized the video that was on TV. It was the video they filmed together when he first left for NZ, a year before her. How they had teased each other on the camcorder, how they had laughed and joked about meeting hot chicks and cute boys over in NZ, and how he finally looked straight into the camcorder and said,</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Darling, my home is built in your hands.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Now sitting beside him, she finally realized that she was more than just a wife, or a lover, or a girl that was always behind and beside him when he needed her the most. Home was never a home without her. His home was built upon that relationship, that love. And that night when she walked out on him, his home disappeared, his home left him.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioz_Yz5wwr9vgYQWpfCbC05vwP2Y2SQUEtHRV_TXFzVrYl46UGQbw95O6-t5MUkea2jHm2ALMqxLdOkQ7QqKLVwwgQMDHJosLHCmjdMg4uDBelaz6rMOz0lHbw-uIR001uobe_a76NYhc/s1600-h/n530969583_1260300_2115.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 352px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioz_Yz5wwr9vgYQWpfCbC05vwP2Y2SQUEtHRV_TXFzVrYl46UGQbw95O6-t5MUkea2jHm2ALMqxLdOkQ7QqKLVwwgQMDHJosLHCmjdMg4uDBelaz6rMOz0lHbw-uIR001uobe_a76NYhc/s320/n530969583_1260300_2115.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288493446874050082" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">Home is never a home without you.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">She snuggled up to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her. If she could, she would never want him to let her go, ever. Feeling the warmth of his chest and listening to his heartbeat, she knew that it wasn’t by chance or mistake that she had finally sent in the resignation letter and repacked her belongings. She had worried about how she’d have to walk in, pondered about how he would react when she walked in, and even had a whole ‘I’m Sorry’ speech ready in her pocket. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Those worries? Flew out of her mind and along with the rolling tears, when she heard him mumble in his sleep, right into her ears just like old times,
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Darling… I’m home.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> HeartzOfGoldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06412107516652704162noreply@blogger.com11