The Lighthouse

Back in first year of college, I usually sat in the 3rd row from the front of the lecture hall. There was this boy who takes 2 steps at a time down to the front and always sits on the 2nd row. In fact, I never needed to check where the lecture was held; I just needed to see where he was sitting to know. He was like the lighthouse that I navigated by.

As years went by, I moved further and further away from the front rows that by the third year of my course, I always sat at the back. There were some subjects (totally unrelated to my course) that came naturally to me. Then, there were others (related to my course) that despite all my efforts, always appeared to be a cryptic code that I could never decipher.

That boy who sat in the 2^nd row? Well, we had a ‘falling-out’ somewhere in second year, simply because he wouldn’t borrow me his homework to copy. What a scrooge?! I thought to myself that if he ever needed my notes or homework, I would definitely not lend it to him. But of course, that day would never come since I never took notes or do my homework before the eleventh hour.

Somewhere in my third year, I shared more classes with this ‘boy’ and I got to know that he wasn’t a scrooge, he just had his principles (albeit weird ones). I also got to know that we shared nothing in common. Absolutely nothing! We happened to take Spanish lessons, to which he drove me to. In return of the favour, he tortured me awake in the wee hours of the morning to play tennis (if that’s what you call it when one person throws the ball and the other misses - to my defence, I was sleepy!) and when that failed, he threw pebbles at my window to wake me from my afternoon nap to go jogging (very slowly). Finally, he resorted to teaching me the guitar (or trying to anyway).

We fought about everything. The radio station, fashion, how we chose to complete our homework and etcetera, etcetera…but we spoke a lot too, about our families, ideas on a relationship, views on a random topic…

I wasn’t going to fall for him. At least, I did not intend to, until he asked me out for a concert, pushed a random guy who came to close and gently flicked away a strand of hair falling over my face with his fingers.

One week later, he proposed.

It’s nearly four years now. We still argue about everything. We still talk about everything. A steady light that has guided me through all my rough patches in life and shared my happy moments, he is still and always will be the lighthouse that I navigate by.

One Full Circle

I was decked in a pink and frilly dress with a hairband to match. It was one of those rare occasions that makeup was allowed on 7- and 10-year-olds…but I don’t remember much from that day…the little that I do remember consisted of the can-can (net-like material that makes dresses poufy) digging through my skin, my lips almost plastered together by the lipstick and stumbling on the tarmac to land on my face, hands and knees and ripping through my panty-hose in the process.

It was my first-ever experience of walking down the aisle.

It was my uncle’s wedding. I was one of the flower girls. My cousins were page boys and my brother was the ring-bearer (more like pillow bearer since he never saw the rings until the end) who led the procession.

Almost 18 years have passed. In 4 months, come 17 November 2012, I will be walking down the aisle myself. But this time I won’t be in front. My dress will be white. Not pink and definitely not frilly. I will be exchanging the hairband for a veil. I hope not to stumble and land on my perfectly made-up face or satin-gloved hand.

I will have a procession of my own. It will be led by a 1-year old, the daughter of my brother the ring-bearer. She will be joined by my uncle’s daughters and son, the same uncles for whom I once walked down the aisle for. The flower girls who once walked with me are now married and would be watching from the pews. My cousins, the page boys would be the men who would help to usher the guests.

We have come one full circle now, have we not?

Butterfly Fly Away...

If you like something, you gotta let it go...and if it is meant for you, it will find its way back...or something like that I've heard...

But really, if you really liked something, why let it go in the first place?

Take for example, dreams...if you wanted to be a doctor, but for some reason had to let that dream go, twenty or thirty years down the road will you be able to do it? You may have the opportunity but will you? Can you?

So, isn't it better, if we had something we like, to just grab on to it, hold on tight and never let it go...and even if it still escapes somehow, we can still say 'at least I tried...very hard'

I guess, at the end of the day, whether we hold on to it or let it go depends on one question...

Is it worth it?