About two years ago this day, I was in Australia on vacation and to visit a dear friend while I was there, along the way.
She plays the trumpet, and when I got to know her, she had just turned sixteen. She was the little trumpet girl, a little too awkwardly tall for her age, but remarkably sharp.
She laughed at my jokes and I laughed at hers. She knew how I thought, and why. We both loved musicals - Miss Saigon in particular. Her nick was Kim and I was Chris. And whenever we talked, we talked like it was the last night of the world.
She's the PR queen, being the ever present friend, the organiser of parties, the center of (mostly male) attention. Perhaps going to a co-ed JC after ten long years in an all girls school had something to do with it, but it did seem she took the easy way out and turned over to the dark side. To all but her closest friends, she seemingly became a bimbo, a social butterfly flitting among the throngs of guys who were constantly about her.
I don't remember much, but I am thankful for what I can remember.
The first time I met her, after six months of talking to her on the phone, on the 2nd of December 1996. It was the day of her prom, and we met outside Mac's at Wisma Atria. She wore a dark blue blouse and black pants. She looked like an angel.
One of our earlier conversations, one lazy weekday afternoon. I said something (probably overtly subtle, go figure), I can't remember what, to which she replied, saying how she's holding up one ply of a two ply tissue and looking at it. "It's so thin I can see through it."
A Christmas barbecue at East Coast, from where you were going home. Home, from where you called me after and related to me a story. You told me how you were waiting for the last bus home, and was thirsting for a drink. 7-11 was just across the street, and you knew you could go over and grab a drink in a matter of minutes. But you didn't. You said if you missed the bus, you'll never be able to be to get home, and you can always have your drink when you do. A few years later, I realised that there was no bus from East Coast opposite a 7-11 that goes to your place.
Once after school during the first 3 months, you got down at the bus stop where you used to stay at Bukit Purmei, wearing your swopped NYGH uniform, and made a 5 minute detour around a two lane road you could've crossed in 5 seconds. To this date, I still don't know why you did that.
At the same bus stop, where we sat and talked about nothing till the sun was set.
Another lazy weekday afternoon, you were back in Singapore on vacation, where we sat and talked about even more nothing still, at Coffee Club, at Holland V, where you remarked that the tea light holders in the wall reminded you of those at Padi Fields. And talked about being 'Boho' (which was so NOT you).
All the numerous times you were there to listen when I was teetering on the edge of sanity. All the times you were there anyway even when I fell over.
When you called me when I was in Australia in the midst of an impromtu song session with Beatrice and an unknown maestro, to share with me the song that is the inspiration for this entry. 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow'. I have never heard a more heartfelt rendtion of that song, Beatrice. I'll always remember that.
And I'll always remember you, Bernise, for sharing that moment with me.
It's been a long ride, and I doubt it's one that I'll have the chance to take again even if my heart permits. Does seem like life has taken us in very different directions now, and I am happy for you. From the time we met when you were just a sixteen year old girl, there was never any doubt in me that you'd one day be the fine young woman you are today. Thank you for your friendship all these years, and having shared something so beautiful and special with me.
We may not talk anymore, but I give thanks to the Lord for having you been once part of my life.
For being that little light that shone thru when the skies were grey.
"Artists can paint the sky red because they know it's blue.
Those of us who aren't artists must paint things the way
they really are or people might think we're stupid."
