2003-2012

now and then, i think about what you would say in response to this. i remember bits and pieces of the things i'd learnt from you, the conversations we'd had and issues we'd wrangled with. i remember the many times you tried to help me to see a point, the hours you spent with me untangling all the messed-up thoughts and erroneous beliefs. it was life-to-life (one of the many things you emphasised), a life-to-life relationship of discipleship. and such imprints do not fade easily.

i miss something, but i don't know what i miss. perhaps this is the feeling ST had when she woke up that day, and said she needed to go home. perhaps this is how maids feel when they first start working for a new employer, and they run away from the home in a bid to escape to the embassy.

i know this will pass, and there'll be a settling down, and that on the whole i am glad to have left the place. but in the meantime, i still remember blk 80 and octopus and blk 162 and chai chee (oh god, chai chee) and st helier's and expo. and i remember white chairs and rattan chairs and sitting on carpeted floors and black curtains and brown doors. and hours and hours and hours and hours of words and words and words and words and words.

it's a stevens sort of pain.