3.5 of you.

adieu.

She sat by the window sill and perched herself like a cat watching the world go by. Outside, the sky was blue and she could just hear the rustle that the sunbaked and brown leaves were making as they brushed against the pavement. Death cab was playing in the background and the scented candle's flame was fighting the cool that surrounded the apartment. She looked around inside, at her parquet flooring and the fresh tulip blooms she received that morning and while her face showed no sign of emotion, her heart betrayed any sense of nonchanlence. She was settled in and she was happy.

In the car ride home the other night from the airport, the boy's mom who she fondly refers to as Aunty L posed the question, "why don't you let me read what you've got? You just got paid for your poetry right? Perhaps you should pursue a post-grad in journalism or creative writing."

She sat quietly in the back listening in to the conversation between the adults in the front seat. She felt like a child again, because of the slate that looked empty yet promising ahead of her. While there will always be questions pertaining to her future which she could never answer, she was coaxed into a state of calm knowing that time was still on her side yet.

"I don't know. Mom always thought that I should give law school a crack."

"Oh yeah?", her voice sounded surprised but warm. She was always warm, it was in her genetic make-up to never sound cold or uncaring. "Maybe you should then, you've got a good head on your shoulders. It's never too late to try something new. The both of you may be in the U.S in a few years then won't you?"

Again, there was silence as she replayed the conversation which she shared with R before he boarded for yet another trip overseas. He said that if he were to go anywhere, he'd like for her to be there with him. How two separate people grow to become so inseparable is not an experience that was foreign to her, but in her second relationship, she found greater depth and constant yearning.

"Maybe." And she sat back in the car's leather seats with a big smile.

Back from her moment's lapse into the past, she picked up her pen and began to write. She wrote 4 words on each page and underlined "goals", "dreams", "thoughts" and "secrets". Hesitating a moment, her black biro crossed out the very last one. She decided that she didn't have any, or anything to hide that she hasn't already shared with the world like an open book. It was a relentless peace and a weight off her chest to know that her slate, was indeed extremely fresh and extremely clean.

She didn't fill in the pages right away, giving the future a chance to fill them in on its own.The world-watching continued, despite the lack of spectacles. And within the hour she realised that she was waiting. Waiting for his return, waiting for the big break, waiting for commitment to override the promise of time. Life had happened, but she was waiting for it to unfold.

###

So long xanga!

carry me

From the silky dew of dawn
To the falling light of dusk

I understand you better
Than anyone who just stops to watch
I've called you home all this time
I've shared my secrets with the river swan
And my thoughts with the 3p.m southern wind
I carry you everyday, for all the days you carried me

*

When will you
call me home?

Someday,
Someday sweet

now.

Things are certainly different. Counting down to the new year has progressed from being a little munchkin struggling to stay awake to count from ten backwards with mom and dad to having to have a bigger party each year. This new year's eve was different from the previous 2 and while it wasn't better, it was more fulfilling. The same omnipresence of alcohol was felt, but the faces were different and so was mine. I was so much happier because I had everything that I wanted all year.

And I hope to start a new tradition with this.

It's nice to stop wishing when the moment has come. And while I don't want to get over-excited at the little remarks, I know I'll hold them so close to my heart because each passing one spells f-u-t-u-r-e. I have no fear facing forward.

Buckle up.