Seasons

Seasons.
.
.
.
Seasons may come and go,
Sometimes we do not even know where is our home.
Our eyes may fail and limbs go frail,
but the love of the Lord is evident till eternity. You see this in the flowers that He gave to bloom. Despite the heat and haze, He made them flourish.
And when the time comes and the trees shall shed their gowns.
So shall we of the things we held on so tightly such as vanity and childlike fuss.
I pray and hope that I may shed my past and bloom ever so gently with humility and trusting in Him to make me whole and beautiful in His time as He has made yours.

Waters. Healing.

“One. Two. Three… Are you ready?” And I flew.

My Dad would say that as he brought me to the edge of the Sea.

Then he would look me in the eye and throw me into the waters.

The waters felt cool and deep. I remember that moment like it was yesterday and it always brings about all kinds of emotions.

In the waters I felt… Excitement and fear perhaps? For a short moment I would surrender to the waters around me. And let it carry me around. Eventually I would emerge, take a breathe and just float endlessly till my dad came to scoop me up and said “Well done.” Was I about 4 then? Such times were rare and this memory will be one that I would always treasure of us.

My sister came along and in primary school over the weekends on were swim days. Part of the swim training was doing laps after laps, they seemed endless. Yet how I enjoyed those times. It felt purposeful to pay attention to my swim coach and to finish all the tasks required. To get his stamp of approval. After lessons I would play with my sister and we would run around or soak in the kiddy or medium pool. We have always been close but our mutual love for swimming was one of the many factors that always brings good memories for us.

Even when our parents were going through their separation and divorce in our teens. I would bring my sister to the public pool nearby and we would swim laps after laps. We lapped up the sun and I would enjoy letting my hair float in the deep waters, diving deeply and then sinking into the bottom as i breathe out bubbles.

Sometimes, we would pretend to be mermaids looking for love or treasure. Be playful dolphins on an adventure, do the a seal wiggle or doggie paddle. I would encourage her to swim on par with me on my laps and she did as she grew stronger and confident with each swim. And just like this for an hour or so, the pain of the separation and having to deal with it as their children would disappear for that moment.

Growing up, when I was alone at the pool. I would let my fingers run on the tips of the waters. Running it back and forth gently. Listening to the gentle sound it made and the soft waves always makes me giggle.

I would reward myself after my laps of swimming by going to the middle of the deep pool, untying my hair and just sink into the depths, to the floor. I would then exhale slowly and come up. Just like I did when I was younger.

These moments felt like magic to me. Me time, my time. No-one could disturb me or that time that I had there alone. Meditating on my own thoughts. Away from distraction.

The sun would caress my back as my skin felt cool and the water still and calm around me.

When I had my first child, swimming was a part of my pre-natal exercise in Japan. The swim natal classes over there was no easy feat and I promise to write about it next time as it might take up a whole new post :).

What I enjoyed most was the part towards the end. After all our training was done. We would pair up into twos and support each other learning to listen in the water and hold our breathe and blow bubbles under it. The coach would drag out the time of holding our breathe under water just a little more each week. Looking back, I think that helped alot during labor. Being able to find inner peace and knowing how to breathe slowly and steadily made the breathing and pushing a little easier.

A few years ago, during at a beach resort I gave my husband a bit of a scare. I had declared that I was going into the choppy sea for a swim in a matter of fact way.

“Are you sure it is safe and are you good enough a swimmer…? The kids and I don’t want to lose their mother”

I heard him call out to me as I did not turn but steadily walked towards the sea.

I knew in the corner of my mind that just a moment ago I had felt contented holding my cute chubby, year old daughter. And then, I saw a family of three as they headed into the waters and swim. They being a mom and her two young kids and that had given me courage to swim try to head to the sea. The blue waters had called out to me and I could not resist their siren call.

There it was, the a rush of swimming into the unknown. The choppy waters moving and carrying me and me threading and going with the flow. Then floating on my back looking at the sky. I thought of all the creatures below me and did not really care for that a short moment. That moment made me smile and felt strangely a little more alive. It was spontaneous and wild, like a side of me that no-one had seen in a long time and it felt good to not just be that mother and wife but to have a moment of me, myself time again.

I cannot wait for my next swim and to work on the next memory and journey that it brings. Perhaps now, being older and somewhat wiser I can look at my strokes and try to see how i can make each stroke better. Maybe I can see if I could hold my breathe as long as I did before? I want to await for my sister to come home to Singapore and bring her for a nice swim again.

Life is filled with so much memories. And though the waters may be cold at times they did their job to refresh me. Other times they are warm and embrace me. Is not life like this? Filled with sadness and times of refreshing. Happiness and joy.

Have you lost the love that you felt towards something? What made you stop doing it? Why not walk that path that you had forgotten to ignite that passion once again. You might pleasantly surprise yourself and make your day!

Sending good swim vibes all the time,

P

Was Lost Now Found, Write Again.

In these days where likes and pictures are of abundance and attention span is shorter than the speed of light.

What do we write about?

I had fond memories of a time where I had enjoyed penning down thoughts and poetry in my journals. All these wonderful little snippets of romance and humour would pour out of my very crowded mind and into stories and writings.

My younger sister and I used to send each other letters that we would fold and “send” via sliding under the bedroom doors.

How magical it felt, to receive words that someone had put thought into and to have it physical in the form of handwriting.

I know it is ironic, as I too am a social media slut and an advocate of getting instant gratification. I mean, who doesn’t like to get that fast, hard and well, good or bad response, instantly?

But. And it is a huge but; there is something so romantic about getting that letter and savouring it.

The feel of the paper that the person has chosen. The curves of the handwriting. Even the smell of the pen that was left behind.

I use to and still do on and off, write romantic poetry on paper napkins, little notes from scrapbooks and seal them with kisses ( I would put on my lipstick and kiss the paper) and stuff them into the bags or pockets of someone I care for.

Somehow as the years passed I lost time, energy and creativity to write.

Marriage, Kids, the many things that came into my life seem to scream for my attention. Writing took 2nd, 3rd well not even a space in my line in the line up of my life. A greater part to my reason for stopping was my lack of confidence in my writing. I never was a strong English student. My grammer is all over the place and so forth. And though I have a great love for reading which fuels and shape my writingthat too has sat waiting quietly in a corner of my busy, lack of focus mind.

I keep telling myself, I will write when I am better focus, when I have time, when the voices in my head is not all over the place. Then nothing gets written or shared.

So, why am i writing again?

I guess, even though I am so unfocus and messy. There is so much I would like to say. I want to be remembered not only for my poetry and my somewhat attempt to have a “real” instagramable life. But be remembered for things that matter to me. Things that I have in my mind which is dear or fun to me.

My craving to write again started when a friend loan me this lap top that stood in the corner of my room waiting to be touched. I looked at it, fondled it and imagine the possiblity of writing again.

As the last few months unfolded, circumstances and muse came into my life once again and i feel this stirring start again. And since we only live once and if you do not try to start how do you begin. I stripped myself from the thought that perhaps I may the only reader to this. So what then.

This is for me. My journey. Perhaps a chance for my kids to open this up one day and read contact with something here that their Ma has left behind.

So I shall pour my heart and soul into some words and let it flow. Let’s see where this writing journey leads me?

I look forward to hearing feedbacks and reading your letters and journey in this land of scribes and imagination.

Shall we begin our journey?

Thank you for reading.

Just words, Just me,

P

A step, a time.

Shhhhhh

The way your lips part as you reach up to taste mine.
My damp skin and yours.
The way you put me closer
and glasp my hair with just enough strength.
I gladly surrender to it all
in a swift thunderous roar,
and the gushing of
waterfalls.

Le Cinema

Being with you
makes the days without you worth more.
No one can truly understand the power you have over this.
Being with you
gives me wings in more was than one,
you make me sing.
It is as sweet as i want
and pretend it to be.

Image via https://weheartit.com/entry/11333723

Boom

Trail

Down we go

Wondering

You came in and joined the line looking like a vision.

Dark hair.

Long sleeved shirt.

So debonair.

I smiled as I texted (it was better than shouting over the loud music)

“We never got to do this while we were together. =)”

And just like that we were transported to the past.

When you hugged me I caught that scent that had once held me captive and those hands that made me your prisioner. I’ll gladly be in chains with you again…

As the night went on, our conversations, like our friendship was seamless and candid.

I like this. This mature version of us. Free from the lies and angry possessive love we had known.

How handsome you are standing next to me, cold drink in hand. Eyes like dark pools that could drown me. I drank it all in.

When you had to leave, amidst the music, the crowd it felt right. No need to hold each other back in our busy schedules.

But as we weaved in between busy bodies and blasting music. My hand brushed yours and I caught it. It felt right and natural. Holding yours as we weaving in and out the crowd. In fact, isn’t it more pratical. We wouldn’t want you getting lost would we?

Round the bend, almost to the start of the line we came. We paused to say our goodbyes. You pulled me in and kissed me on the cheek.

Not good enough…

I pulled you in and kissed you on the lips, a farewell to linger and dream of.

You embraced me and smile and like a dream that had ended puff, gone.

It was nice.

You made me feel more attractive and special in that moment then I’ve had in years.

How queer that a simple night could evoke such sweet memories thst we had once shared.

I smiled as I enter tomorrow with that thought in mind.

Saying goodbye to my yesterday.