Letters from the road, North South Highway

It’s dusk.

I’ve not had the time really in a long while to really sit and really watch dusk fall, gradually like a beautiful stain creeping quietly into the night, like a stealthy, sexy lover enticing in its darkened cloak.

We are driving our faithful rush along the north south highway towards our resort in Sepang, and there are no street lamps to marr the colours of the sky. Suddenly the eye sees more colours than it has ever seen. A tinge of blue. A swipe of pink. A defiant stroke of orange. Purple hues. Indigo. Denim. A plethora of greys. Even a little hint of green. It’s breathtaking in its transformation.

We sit, companionably, side by side listening to Jacky Cheung sing about the different season of a girl that comes to his concerts. It’s heartbreaking. But poignant.

Nothing to do but battle the road ahead of us. Surely we will get there.


M is for Magpie


A compulsion I cannot help but to collect, store, take out/look at, revisit these old dusty memories of yesteryears.

A lost friend,
an unforgotten train ride,
a picnic in the sand.

A kiss in the car,
A silver present at midnight,
A stolen star gaze in a hammock.

A smuggled lizard,
An almost-missed plane ride,
A sail to nowhere.

A missing diamond,
A 3hr long 45 min hike,
Lanterns in the garden.

Our memories are but an extension of our past selves, no?

B is for Beach Bum

D and i are definately Beach people; (not that we have the bodies for it anymore), but we have always loved the beach– our first long holiday together was to Phuket where we spent entire days on the beach with our books/games and what a wonderful memory that was. Since then, our default relax mode has always been to head to the beach — and i’ve been moaning and groaning (in a really bad way) about how i need to hit the beach ASAP.

D surprised me, this Good Friday weekend, to telling me that he’s applied and gotten approval (YAY for his awesome boss!) for leave the labour day long weekend. Rock my socks, Tickle my fancy– we’re off to the beach!

This year, we really want to do a long drive trip through the west coast of Malaysia. Dad’s best friend strongly recommends the trip and gave us many many pointers for our route. We’re doing that in August — maybe take a 2 or 3 week drive and see where that takes us.

Well for this 3-day holiday, D insists on not flying.. which limits me to well, Boats or Cars.. and since we had an awful experience in Batam and we did Bintan for our 1st year anniversary, we’re off to Malaysia! 3 glorious days of Sun, Sand and Sea with my Man.

3.Superior-Room 161823_120511124824189_800x600 199398Need a new swim suit! Yikes!



S is for Shush

Once you smiled that smile only for me,
a secret language;
a private signal,
a whispered breath,
a moment.

That moment we touched,
and sizzled with passion and need and desire.
Small gulps,
bruised lips.

A snapshot.

We’ve changed, it’s no longer the same.
It’s better this way;
we’ve both older now, wiser now
Learnt to pace ourselves.

It’s only natural, right?

N is for nightmare

It has everything to do with the fact that I read these gory murder stories before I go to bed– I read with rapt attention, then I fall dead asleep. Most nights I don’t get to turn off the reading lamp.

Tonight I dreamt of a red bed, and waking up in shock (in the dream) as to why I was there. Alone. Clothed in some kinda drapy pillow case. (Phew! Did not dream cheat) It was one of those torrid smoke-hazed rooms with veils and sashes hanging from the rafters and you gotta push and shove at these semi-translucent pieces of cloth to get out of this room bathed in red light. I wasn’t scared of some ghost — it did not have a ghostly edge; just the endless maze of bring trapped or lost.

Dream morph.

Then I dreamt of an old friend; someone I haven’t dreamt of in years– we were sitting at some stone tables along a dirty river. It was in the middle of the day, but the weather was cool. I remember being barefoot; tapping my ankle to the beat of some song I was humming. We weren’t really talking, just enjoying each other’s company; and humming this tune that’s still stuck in my head.

Then I wake (for real) to realise I’ve only been asleep less than 20 minutes– marvelling at how quickly the mind moves when at rest.

Broken sleep; going to have a sore head tomorrow. The Forev-Boyf sleeps on, he is exhausted from his weekend trip to Vietnam. I listen to his breathing in envy. Bronco snores, snug in D’s arms.

At times like these, I feel both fortunate and lonely. Fortunate that I have so much to be thankful for, lonely because I have all these words bottled up inside that I cannot enunciate. The words that won’t come.

There is a private storm in me, a grief that saw me clutching at the steering wheel and fighting back tears this afternoon. But I couldn’t bring it up today over dinner; I’m sorry– I guess this is my confession D. I think I know why, and I think you know why; but I can’t say for sure, it rumbled its way through me like a road-train in the night and it went by before I realised it began. I could be angry, I haven’t worked it out. I clearly don’t want to talk about it; just to be left to make my peace with myself.

Dreams, reality, hopes, fears, desires and frustrations. I can’t make sense if it all. What could anyone do even if they understood, what difference would it make. At the end, it’s me alone at 3 am thinking wretched thoughts I have no business entertaining.

F is for frustrated

This is turning out to be one of those nights where I am tossing and turning and grumpy and angsty, frustrated at the pillows and the dog (we sent the usual suspects off to sleep with the sister, keeping only pepper with us) and the sound of the fan and the mating street cats and the also-trying-to-sleep-frustrated-husband.

Peps gets equally frustrated, as we take turns bothering her, but she unlike us, is able to sleep so she has since moved to the end of the bed to be left alone.

The boy leaves for Vietnam on thurs. That means a whole weekend of closet-office-toiletry clearing! I say I say.. Pretend only. I will try.

Methinks it’s time for supper.