January 26, 2012

My dearest,

I’m sitting in yet another café, after asking the guy who was already at the table, if I could take the seat opposite him. He had nodded sure, wordlessly. There are other tables, of course, with extra chairs no one bothers to ask for. We tend to avoid strangers, don’t we? Why, I wonder.

I send you a text message, lamenting the horrendous crowds at the shopping malls and the always-full car parks. You have heard all of this before, of course. I let my eyes wander, taking in all the other people in the café. I observe, I make assumptions. I can’t help myself.

Eventually I tire of this sport and take out an empty journal from my bag. An early birthday gift from a friend. A bright red Moleskine, so it serves the colours of the Chinese New Year rather well. Empty pages, lined and waiting for ink, for words, for thoughts.

And so I do.

Half an hour passes, and then you text me. You are done with work and walking over. We can go home. You tell me about your day, the office gossip, the pasta and pie your colleague will be making for his visiting parents when he gets home. It starts to rain, a light shower. Not much traffic. Hooray. Your hand on my lap as I drive. I smile without turning to look at you.

We get home. Unlock the door, enter, close it behind us. Throw our bags onto the daybed. Start up our computers. Facebook. Twitter. Blog comments. And then we heard the giant roars. The wind and rain, pounding at our balcony French windows. I put the palms of my hands against the glass and feel it push me back. Thunder and lightning. Roar and roar.

We check the back balcony. Water is seeping in. You tell me it’s scary, only half-jokingly. You grab the mop and the bucket; I take it from you and get started on the quickly expanding puddle across the kitchen floor. Menial task but there is a rhythm; there is something vaguely therapeutic about this. Slop, slop, squeeze. The puddle spreads, then slowly dwindles. Slop, slop, squeeze.

Fifteen minutes later the dark sheets of grey are replaced by a more regular patter. We detect some semblance of a sunset starting in the distance. It’s beautiful, and so it is today.

Yours, ever and always.