Dear Daddy,

I found the letter that you wrote for me when i was twelve in one of my files before I flew off to Australia, and it might have been seven years since i last opened up the brown-coloured envolope with your loping handwriting scrawled upon it, but i must admit, it still brought tears to my eyes the moment i read the very first sentence you penned, bringing back memories of me gripping a pencil between my pudgy little fingers, writing on a tiny piece of paper and hiding it between the pages of the book laid upon your bedside table.

I don't know if you even remembered writing that letter for me, and it alludes me to whether i actually replied with another note stuck between the pages of your book, but if i didn't, i want to take this opportunity now to thank you for the letter you actually sent home, even if you could've personally handed it to me, but i guess you know me well, i love receiving things in the mail.

Reading this letter again reminded me of just how great, and awesome, and loving a dad you are in spite of the times we bicker and fight over the most senseless things, I have to admit, but i think i'm already missing the times spent with you, arguing just for the sake of proving our points, fighting over the last remnants of food, poking fun at each other, rolling my eyes at your endless array of lame jokes your mind is capable of thinking of, your horrible sing-along sessions with your favourite music on full-blast, you asking me to listen closely to a guitar solo of your favourite band, then proceeding to strum your fingers on a make-believe guitar cradled in your arms, our times spent lazing on the parkay floor on a hot day, watching the fan above us rotating as your share your stories of childhood and bygone days with me. I'm going to miss all of that daddy, and for the next four years, i would not get to do any of that with you. But i want to, with all my heart, i just wish i could bring you along with me, because you'll always be that familiar, strong presence in the home, someone i can turn to just to feel safe from harm again.

In your letter, you said you're so proud to see how much I've grown, from a tiny little babe swaddled comfortably in cloth to a twelve year old, a "pretty young woman", but honestly dad? i don't think I've grown that much at all. I think a lot about me is still stuck in a mental capacity of a 12 year old, i don't think I've matured all that much and that really scares me. I'm afraid i don't know enough to find my way about, I'm terrified of how my peers seem so, grown-up, so level headed, so unlike me in uncountable ways that sometimes i wonder if I'm even fit to enter University, simply because i think my brains just isn't up to par. But dad, I'll try, I'll try my very best to grow in the way you want me to, to be that young woman you pictured in your head. I don't want to disappoint you, it seems that I've let you down so many times, i just want to make it up to you. I'm sorry for all the hurt I've intentionally caused.

I also want to thank you for, dad, for always encouraging me to pick up a book when i lack the interest back then, for if it weren't for you and mum who gradually helped me to read and understand the simplicity of words and how much we can do with it, i wouldn't become the avid bookworm i am today. I thank you for constantly being by me, for being a bookworm yourself, for inculcating the love of books within my soul. I think my life will be a whole lot different without the influence of books, it would've been a bleaker place, nowhere for me to seek refuge and divert my attention away from reality. It would not be pleasant, that i know for sure, and for that also, i want to thank you for introducing me to the wonders of what a mere book could do to lighten a heavy burden, to lift one's spirit and to impart inspiration at every sentence.

I'll continue writing dad, i promise you this. That i won't give up writing even if plights of laziness washed upon me, even if my arms shake out of exhaustion, even if my fingers are unable to lift a pen and scribble a word, i won't let that stop me, and I'll strive to keep on writing, and writing. I don't know if i have the capability of penning a book, but evidently you have faith me in that somehow, my little vignettes that i wrote for you lead you into thinking that one day i might be able to publish my very own book. I don't know, obviously i lack confidence, but it has always been something i want to achieve, and with your constant guidance cheering me on, i think i could make it, and i think, i will try. One day daddy, I'll make you proud to call me your daughter.

Funny, though, how you wrote saying that you're really excited for my next phase in life, and that is entering the whole new whole of High School in Stella Maris, and hoped that i would successfully make a tonne of friends in my teen years, and you know what? Although i definitely cannot say that i was Ms. Popular with an entourage of fans in tow, i can utter without a doubt that i have made a group of close-knitted friends that would always be there for me in life, and I've kept them very, very close to my heart. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder, doesn't it? I always thought that was pish-posh until i experienced it for myself firsthand, needless to say i really am missing their company right now, missing all our moments so often filled to the brim with rambunctious laughter and deep, philosophical conversations. I miss all of them, and i miss you dad. I wish i could just bring the whole lot of you with me and be done with it.

But i know i'm brought here for a reason, because opportunities like these isn't handed over to everyone on the streets, and for that very reason i'm not letting this one go just because it takes me out of my comfort zone. All the more i should take it right, dad? All the more, because with this new experiences comes traipsing into my front door, with this more strangers are to be turned into friends, and friends into listening ears and encouraging hugs. I hope i can make a group of friends like those i am so fortunate to find back home in church, in school, and even in college. I hope from the bottom of my heart to the ends of my toes that i would gain like minded friends who share the same interests, who would laugh along to my poor attempts at jokes and be there to go star gazing and people-watching with me, to share with me the great times of joyous escapades, to times when we feel like we couldn't really make it through the day without breaking down, I hope i would get to meet a group of people like that here, one day. But for now, as i'm waiting for our paths to collide, i know you'll be there for me, and you're just a skype call away.

Thank you for writing that letter to me daddy, i think just by seeing the perfect curves of your penmanship on a sheet of paper really uplifted my mood. To be honest, i'm afraid of a lot of things at the moment, things that concerns my future, uncertain things that i need to unclog from my brain, but you said i should always depend on God, and I am, really, because what i am about to embark on i certainly could not rely on my own strength alone, and i just need all the help at my disposal, I need God in my life to see me through this. I need Him more than ever now, because i just cannot comprehend how a person like me can go through this alone. I'll always keep that verse you wrote down for me tightly bounded in my mind, i know it would serve as a little source of encouragement, so thanks Dad. Thanks for reminding me that through all my endeavours, i am never alone.

I hope to see you soon daddy! I really wish you were here with me, because i think having you and momma here would keep my loneliness at bay. But i'm fine, i'm good, i'll take whatever comes my way and fight through it, and i think above all, to possess the virtue of patience, for that is what i'm really in need right now. A truckload of patience, to wait on God's perfect timing.

Thank you for always being there for me dad, always. You've been the best father anyone could ever have.

I love you!
Becky :)

PS. Lots of hugs and kisses all the way from down under! 

Build a World of Magic.

 It seemed as if there were endless possibilities stretched out before me. I could achieve so many things, i had so much time, i was armed with bountiful ideas that took me to places that our world can't even contain. I could be a graceful ice skater, i could find the end of the rainbow with pots of gold awaiting my eager hands, i could climb the tallest trees and gaze at the tiny specks of people, of buildings, of roads and shrubs and trees and hills, of the sunlight drifting down my face as i look at the wonderment right beneath my fingertips. I could hop on a bus and let it lead me to a destination i had no intentions of going to, i could join the circus and ride on elephants as they go traipsing through the claustrophobic atmosphere of a little, domed circus tent. I could be an actress, a singer, a writer, a performer who lits the stage with her mere presence and a tiny flick of her dark, tousled locks streaming down her rosy face. I could sit and draw and paint for days, listening to the sound of the bristles of a paintbrush against an empty canvas, watch as that very canvas turned into an array of colour and compelling fantasies, smell the sharp, acrid smell of fresh paint on the colour-splattered palette, mixing them to form another. I could lock myself in a room full of books and sit reading from dusk till dawn, never leaving my designated spot until the very last pages of a book so telling, so gripping was finished, then only would i be satisfied enough to stand, dust myself off, and go hunting for another gem amongst the tomes and tomes encased upon bookshelves. I could travel the world, watch all the musicals on Broadway and traipse around New York city, admire the Northern lights in Alaska, stand awe-inspired in front of the Taj Mahal, visit the tower of London and try to recall how many deaths were executed there, place a rose upon a soldier's grave who fought valiantly in WWI, romp in the valleys and fields where The Lord of the Rings was shot, ski down the Alps of Switzerland, write a letter to Juliet and post it on her wall, in Vienna.

I could do so many things, be anything i ever wanted to be. My future seemed endless, a book waiting to be filled with words of excitement and adventure, a vague sketch yearning to be outlined and splashed with vivid colours that inspires the soul, an empty slate, grasping for knowledge at every available interval, a tunnel with numerous roads, signs, pathways, gates and exits to choose. It was like that, in the mind of a child whose innocence was still intact, whose naivete led her to believe that absolutely anything was possible if she wished it, where she thought the world in which she lived in was kind and good and fair, where she thought opportunities were readily given to her, she only had to ask.

It could have been. That's the thing. It could HAVE been. So many things, so many experiences and aspirations and goals got sucked down the drain and emptied into the vast wasteland of broken dreams, because we stopped dreaming. We stopped hoping for the impossible to happen and settled for the predictable, the safe things. We grew up, threw away our fanciful thoughts and became sensible, halting any other ideas that may seem to far fetched for our little narrow minded brains.

But you know? i don't think i've ever stopped dreaming. Dreaming and hoping that one day, i still might be able to achieve some of the things my mind has automatically crossed out just because it does not seem like a plausible feat at the moment. One day, perhaps, one day i would see the world, i would fulfill and tick off the things i've written down mentally in my bucketlist. It's not meant to be done now, but one day, whenever that may be, i will go off exploring the world on my own, and be whatever my heart told me to be.

Till then, i'll keep dreaming. Dreaming and hoping and working towards that goal, until the day it comes into fruition. I couldn't wait for that moment to arrive.

Big.

"Every day you're not dead in the ground, when you wake up in the morning, you're gonna have to make some decisions. Got to ask yourself this question: "Am I gonna believe all them bad things them fools say about me today?" You hear me today? "Am I gonna believe all them bad things them fools say about me today? You hear me today?" All right? As for your mama, she didn't pick her life. It picked her. But you, you're gonna do something big with yours. You wait and see."

-Constantine Jefferson, 'The Help'.

Love.

It was like any typical Monday night; the streets were still jammed with cars and their drivers on the way back to their respective homes after yet another tiring day at work. I watched people muling around in the Bukit Bintang area, carrying shopping bags, entering restaurants, or just chatting under the streetlights that lined the walkways.

It was like any other Monday night, riding in my daddy's big MPV and partially listening to the song playing on his favorite radio station whilst i also tuned into the light chatter between my parents, the way my mum laughed at something my dad said. It was probably something lame, but mum always laughs at his jokes while the rest of us groan and wonder what he'll come up with next.

That Monday night however marked the 30th anniversary of their marriage, and although i don't know half the things they went through as a couple, but i am pretty sure of one thing, that they never gave up on each other and shows no sign on giving up now. They didn't do anything special that night. After our weekly BSF classes, they came home and sat down in the kitchen with a cup of coffee shared between the both of them and talked some more. It might not be much, but somehow i feel that they don't really need a glammed up, spectacular dinner just to commemerate another year in their marriage, or to celebrate their love for one another on that particular night, because i feel that they've been doing exactly that since the day they've been together.

Truth be told, i would like to have a relationship much like what they have. A love that is founded on the love of God, and a love for each other that has lasted since day one, a love that provides mutual support, a love that does not abandon in trying times but rather strengthens and takes hold to help along the winding road. This is the kind of love that i sense everyday, a quiet, affectionate and responsive love i see from the way they smile, the way my dad holds onto my mum's hand in a protective sort of way, the way my mum's eyes crinkles with laughter everytime my dad dishes out a pun, the way they chat about everything from politics to what to plate for dinner, the way they always seem to be together, one never without the other.

It's that kind of love that the world is lacking, the kind where it's basis is not only solely moulded around on passion, on what is visually and emotionally pleasing, but formed out of respect, of sincerity, the kind that doesn't need to be flaunted to show that you're in a relationship, those that takes time and effort to build, the kind of love which would withstand any obstacles thrown their way.

I admire my parents, i really do. I admire their dedication towards their family, their peseverence through hardships i'm sure married couples are bound to face, I admire them for holding on to this relationship tightly and never gave up on one another.

I think they've set the benchmark pretty high for future relationships that might, or might not, come for me.

So as i sat in with them at the kitchen table, listening silently to their lighthearted banter and the boisterous laugh emitting from my father, I smiled a smile that reached my eyes; I smiled just thinking of how far my parents have come, how much they've put in to raise three daughters and taught them right from wrong, and just how grateful I am to be part of this family, to be part of their lives.

 

I thank God i have parents such as them to come home to everyday.

Transition.

Just imagine, next year i would turn 20. 20 is like a stepping stone to adulthood, it's when the final pages of our teens are turned and we began a new chapter, another milestone. When i was 10 and thought of myself as ten years older, i looked to my mum and thought how much i wanted to be like her, how she's always calm in chaotic situations, that one sure presence that wouldn't change, that one person my sister and i would run to when a problem arises. My prime example of a grown and matured woman was my mum, and i thought in ten years time, maybe i would be, at least, a quarter of what she is to me.

But even being a tiny bit like my mum seems impossible to me now, just because of the way i am, how i still feel like a little girl in so many ways regardless of my age. i don't want to grow up so fast because the little girl in me can't catch up, there's so much i don't know and don't understand and i feel like my knowledge of this world is so limited, how can i age into adulthood when i still lack in so many things?

i think all of us has a little part deep down inside knowing that we wouldn't want to grow up if given the chance, for whatever reasons. But, you know, whenever i think of next year and how i would no longer be deemed as a teen, how the world would suddenly expect of you to become someone responsible, someone that would not be viable to all the excuses parents makes for their teens because of their 'senseless' behaviours. "Oh, she's just going through a phase", "Oh, she's just a teen", "raging hormones, y'know?" None of those would be applicable to us anymore, we would have to take full responsibility for our actions.

But, i think those expectations can't be met in my case. I don't think so. Whenever i think of next year and what it would bring, i would always think of my ten-year-old self, how that little girl wanted to take everything by storm because she is finally, grown up. How she viewed herself as she progressed into that unknown realm of adulthood, where everyone seemed to be fully equipped with wisdom and knows no wrong, where decisions are made composedly and they always seem to know the right things to say. That ten year old saw herself that way, perhaps a happier, livelier version, but one that would not be flustered easily, one that isn't really afraid of anything, one who is pretty, gorgeous even, one that's pleasant to be with and the life of a party.

I know i'm not any of those things however. I would never make heads turn to begin with, i'm still so scared, shamefully scared of countless things, i still get flustered at the worst possible moment, in short i don't think i've even come close to that image my 10 year old self managed to conjure up in her head. That 20, bubbly, confident and radiant woman. The truth is i can never see myself that way anymore. And sometimes i just wonder if that little girl who imagined herself to be that illusion she imagined, how she would react when she finds out the future her isn't what she thought it would be?

I don't know, but one thing's for sure, that ten year old kept hoping. Hoping for a better future in a better world. She kept hoping, and i guess that's where i should learn from her, to never stop hoping, to continue believing even though i know nuts about whats ahead of me, of what i am bound to face one day. Hoping, somehow, as day passes, as my body grows, so does my mind; that with everyday experiences i learn how to cope with this world, and that someday, when i look back, i can honestly say that i've grown, grown to become whoever i'm meant to be. 

*

It's a vicious cycle that i need to break out of. 

because things cannot continue with the way it is right now. 

Disturbances.

I need to stop obsessing over trivial matters and start focusing my thoughts on more important and vital issues to address. But you know, i just can't seem to reign in my runaway ideas.

Sometimes i just wonder what good this imagination of mine does to me. It seems to cause nothing but distress and in certain instances, heartbreak, whenever hopes are dashed and crushed into pulp.

I just need a peace of mind. But even that, is hard to get hold of.