Something begins every Sunday evening

My mind and heart slightly churns

At the thought of you going -

But each passing day brings more light more smiles

It's Friday - My baby is back again! 

Unconditionally.
You are my dearest partner
A hand of beautiful measure
I want to hold until we age

Our lives have undulated
There's no map as there was before
We fum and tum to navigate
Through potholes, bends and hills galore

Your faith is sensed unspokenly
When you hold my hand in yours
Firmly there's such strength conveyed
Through tenderness and thereness

I want to hold your hand as tightly
And hug you close when you feel tired
To face life's uncertainties and fears 
From both within and without

We will seek our paths as a couple
For our simple love's our compass
Wherever it may lead us, I believe
It'll only lead us closer.

What does Singapore mean to me?

Being with my family. The chats, the laughter and the kopi.

The ambiguities of home

Coming home to Singapore has begun to feel slightly uncertain. Perhaps this is due to some of my changing perspectives from living abroad for some time. Being overseas has always been my playground for reflecting and renegotiating my self and cultural identities. After a 13 hours flight from London, I was definitely elated to see all my beloved family members. But as time progressed through the night, I felt a unwelcomed sense of discomfort that pained me. Firstly, things. There were so much of them. I felt almost burdened by all the things that were supposed to make my husband and I happy – they were meant to be presents. This overwhelming presence of material things that I did not need nor want was difficult to bear precisely because I knew they were all given out of sheer love. Giving material presents is a language of love that I know well; I speak it because I know (or had assumed?) it’s what some of my family wants to hear. But should I really when it isn’t consonant with my values or what I believe to be important in life? I was forced to confront myself as well: lovingly and unthoughtfully, I too had bought a lot of ‘things’ for my family from London as a gesture of love. Have I, in turn, become a product of my environment?

Do we really need more ‘things’ in our lives? I felt pained because I knew that if I were to articulate aloud these honest thoughts, I might upset the givers (whom I love). In my mind, I’d already placed a mirror to reflect on myself. There is certainly a space and time for giving presents – there can be much meaning and depth in giving presents. I guess it’s not about the act of giving presents that I am questioning; it is the act of giving presents in a thoughtless or almost irrational way. There are times when the best present to give is to not give. But are we always discerning enough to know when this may be?

My preferred language of love for my family is for us to just Be together. This is ideally in the form of conversation that reveals genuine concern, openness and active listening. Not someone who only cares to talk about what’s overt or superficial. I’d love a conversation in which both persons truly take time and patience to listen to what is said and unsaid because this, for me, expresses mutual love and respect, which are beyond what ‘things’ can ever convey.