Tuesday, November 26, 2002
it is a day to tuck yourself nice and snuggly in bed and clock up that marathon napping episode. that's what people would say. but when i had to wakeup to visit the loo, the wind was blowing and it felt so numbingly cold that it snapped me right awake (oops nearly forgot all about my lemongrass ginger tea). now, what can i say? this day is wonderful. everyday is wonderful. His mercies are new every morning. i lounge on this living room deck chair (you can fold it out horizontally like those pool chairs), eat my soft cookies and watch nothing moving. the grey clouds lazing about just like me. the car park lots and balconies empty. but the morning light is shining so bright and clear. i'm wearing a singlet and i'm getting accustomed to the cold. i recall the time i slept in my "uncle's" apartment in NYC with my family. it's winter time and that day looked like this only ten times colder.
The things i remember for now:
eating chilli crabs my uncle made. accompanying him to the chinatown market.
watching nightmare before christmas
waiting in line at the statue of liberty, never understanding why the ques had to be so long and why we were queing to see this oxidised piece of metal. but now, i think about the number of people who had to figuratively and literally line up and wait for their turn of freedom to be given to them. when we got into the statue itself, swallowed up in the metal enclosure, i felt then that i was suddenly losing the whole point of my trip. it's like losing your vision of things, getting caught up in the moment. and looking at the statue from afar was better than ending up in its insides.
ice-skating near my uncle's block. my mum chaperoned us and became so blue that she fell ill the next day.
the next day, visited the museums and my mum who had flue already, sat at a bench and waited for all of us. the security guards thought she was a homeless person. i was separated from my parents and sister and walked around, trying to make sense of things around me but constantly felt overwhelmed. i joined my mother and as they paged for my sister and dad... and as we waited... they paged again... then 1/2 hour later my sister came and then later my dad...
but why am i talking about all these things past?
then i do remember the last trip to the airport. my uncle told me to get a life and be more independent. i just shrugged, looked out and saw a trickle of snow. it looked and felt exactly like this day. and perhaps, that's why i'm just telling you all these things.
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