my hands are stained a smurf blue

These days, I feel like I'm going on some sort of adventure that I had not bargained for. And before I get old, too old for this sort of thing, I'm glad that I have had the time to live it up a little.

Unexpectedly, I lost my job. Or rather, it was expected, just that I had not expected it to be so abrupt. For weeks, I had already been anticipating the changes, so I can say that I was not unprepared. However, it was still a blow, to lose something that has already become familiar to you.

So on that very next day I found myself booking a one-way ticket for the first time. I knew where he was, and I knew we would not have many days together. I guess we needed each other, we needed to cheer each other up.

Then, without much thought, I did what people have been doing for ages, traveling through places. After Penang we went to KL, and now in Melaka for the week. I'm glad I'm here. Melaka always provides me with a deep, good sleep, perhaps it's the air or else the sun zaps my energy and I don't have burdensome thoughts, just walking around happily here.

It was a blessing to my heart that I found kind people who helped me along the way, to lift my spirits. I persuaded Uncle Clay to teach me pottery for a day; despite my wonderful art degree, I had never known how to manage a pottery wheel and fashion a lump of clay into a usable object. It was tougher than it looks and my hands were trembling from the day's work. I made two small seaturtles in memory of our huge sandcastle seaturtle we made on our last trip - we did not bring cameras to the beach, so this will serve as a longer keepsake.

Then, I kept speaking to different people in Melaka. A secondhand bookshop owner pointed me to a place I could paint. A shoemaker pointed me to a papercutter I could learn from. I went to paint. The guy who owns the art cafe gave me a piece of wood, surfboard length and half the width. He also gave me oil paints, to my delight. A Penang Uncle who painted on canvases, learnt that I wanted to paint, and generously brought a blank canvas for me, the next day. I did not need to pay a single cent for all these and I was humbled and touched. The canvas was quite a big size and in Singapore we would need to pay a 3 digit amount for it. Yet, he just gave it to me, not even wanting my gratitude. So, for the first time in my life, I started oil painting. I really like to be creative, only it's so expensive and ... I guess we do not really have the time to find time to do it. I painted in silence for hours, while people ate their lunches, drank with their friends. And I loved every single minute of it. The oil colors just melted into the canvas, and each day I couldn't wait to get up and continue my masterpiece. I'm using tones of blue, teal blue to smurf blue. Feeling the paint on the canvas, blending and painting the oils, I did this for hours and it is the best feeling in the world, which I discovered by chance, and I'm so thankful, for having these people in my life. My hair is frizzled here, my skin is dry and tanned, but I have such lovely toned legs, and when I look at the paint stains on my hands (oil is hard to wash out), a smurf blue, I think that I am glad to be here on a two-week paid vacation (my company paid me out, it lessens the pain), and having such an adventure.

One Day.

300-over sms (he counted, technically).
280 facebook messages (I counted).
One Day.
18 hours.

It must all mean something, shouldn't it?

But we'll never meet each other again, and one day, he will forget my name. One day, we'll feel awkward at even the memory of things that transpired. A crazy story we'll never tell anyone. You'll lead your life and I'll lead mine. We will stop and stare in silence at random people who remind us of each other. Perhaps the way they walked, or the exact color of their hair sabotages us into suddenly living that highlighted snippet of a memory that we had never even thought about until, the warm, tingly feelings besmirch us into falling into something we refuse to admit that we had not wanted to sidestep into.

After all, it was only supposed to be a meeting for one day and never again, not again for any good reason.

Otherwise, the distance may be good for both of us. It could be that I had followed my heart, or my lack of common sense. I knew what was going to happen between both of us those few days more, precious days - and I threw myself into it, wholeheartedly! I have never felt so alive; so incredibly, unbelievably happy.

I think of him in the shower. We did everything together, having this strange, familiar feeling that we have been closely acquainted for a long, long time. I know we'll never see each other again, based on the future choices we make. But I choose to meet him. And in essence, he chose me, too. Precious days, perfect moments, incredibly happy at these unexpected circumstances.



We chose each other, just for that one day.