Beautiful Amnesia

It has been a month since I last wrote in here. All that time went by quickly, almost too quickly. When I look back upon the past month, I would have to chart it with each punctuation I had to make at various pit stops. By that I mean the moments where I literally had to stop myself from doing whatever I was doing, grab myself by the hand and say “hey Wen, just hang on for a minute”.

The moment I stepped foot in Singapore, I should have been fined for speeding. Speeding through all the things I had to do (and there were so many), the people I had to see (and there were so many) and the lessons I had to learn (and there were so many). In between all that, I took off for China and spent 7 intense days with my father. There I continued to learn. Mostly I learnt about the man who although always present to me, had in more ways than one been a stranger. With difficulty, I engaged just enough courage for him to see through my imperfections. Those seven days away from the world as both of us knew it, allowed me a strange re-birthing. For so many days I cried like I had just been born. I cried just like how I must have cried when my soul was forced out of the womb against my will. I cried till my eyes were sore and my heart was empty. I am not quite the same anymore. But neither is my father. The change is not obvious, just the slightest tilt. It is like shifting ever so subtly in an armchair from a position that has numbed your body because you’ve sat that way for so long. As such, some things have eased but others have only just begun to tense up. Just that little bit. Enough to make some very important but invisible differences. At the end of the day, you’re still in that same damn chair but maybe more at ease. For now. Maybe.

There were many sorrows encountered in this journey back home, and a few more truths to acquire. I have learnt that the people around me all suffer but in different ways. I have learnt for the first time, truly, that my problems are huge only when compared to myself. I have learnt for myself, how I cannot reject the fact that my culture is actually important to me despite a lifetime of denial. Australia, though a land now my home, is not my birthplace, has never been and never will be. At best, this land is a decision I have made. Mostly though, I have learnt that through all our joys and laughter, the jewels of vulnerability and fragility come from the same roots. My soul has been just that little bit lighter, and strangely with that, I feel a lot older.

To the many people I love that I’ve left behind, our times apart have only served to let our times together be check-points. A “Hey, let’s just all hang on for a minute - where have you been? Where are you now?” sort of a point. Through these times, I have also learnt to grab myself by the hand and say “wait, what’s happening around me - right now?”. For all too often we are either rushing forwards or falling backwards.

I am back in Australia now and it is like the calm after a storm, a cycle I have grown accustomed to. The slight melancholic low after the high until it all evens out again. In contrast to Singapore, here I have endless amount of time to stand still. It is a point for me to rest again now, and to try to gather all that I have learnt. There is a time for everything.