I don’t know why the Universe picked you but you are definitely one of a billion. To open up a PET bottle with a letter in it takes a special kind of mind. A mind that doesn’t only see trash, but sees potential, sees the rolled up paper within as a pleasant surprise.
I have no name. I come from no where. I just happen to know the most common language on this planet. Okay, perhaps to narrow things down a bit, let’s just say I am an Earthling. I breathe. I eat. I breed. I die. Actually, I will die quite early compared to the latest statistics. I will die within one month, so says my doctor.
My previous letter was filled with all my complaints to The Big Guy Upstairs for the cards He decked me and how crumby my life turned out to be. Whoever got that one must be depressed as hell now. But I sure hope no one got that one. I hope the Universe deemed it too dark to consume and let it get bitten by a shark and leak and sink to the bottom of the ocean. I hope.
I hope therefore I live.
I don’t want to think of my doctor’s verdict. He isn’t God. I want to live in the present. I want to feel my fingers on this paper, writing with a pen instead of pencil, miserably making mistakes then mercillessly scribble away at it instead of using type-x. You can’t type-x life. You can’t delete memories of your first crush, your first love, your first marriage.
I love therefore I hope.
I love to see the sun rise and set. I love to see the moon in her different shapes. I love how the waves muffle the laughter and squeals of children playing with them or is it the other way around? I love how they hug me from behind and snuggle their chins on my shoulder blades and whisper, “I love you, Mama.” I love how little Luna skips along finding sea shells for our shell collection. “Look Auntie, it has a star shape on it!” she’d yell from somewhere, knowing it would be impossible for me to see what she’s holding from where I was sitting. I’d yell back, “That’s lovely, Darling!” giving her an approving nod and smile. She’d grin revealing the loss of her baby teeth. Then there would be Hans, sitting in a chair similar to mine reading a thick book, perhaps from my library. Using my imagination, I could see Hans immersed inside a huge bubble filled with soldiers, giant whales, floating pixy fairies, griffins, unicorns, giant beanstalks, detectives and race cars filled with gadgets. Hans, the blonde beautiful blue-eyed boy, my nephew the story-teller.
I’m sorry, I must be boring you with this. Talk about trying to hide my identity, eh? *laughs*
I’ll miss listening to my iPod. You know what? Now you can store up to thousands of songs in such a teeny-tiny device? Never in my early years did I think technology would be this brilliant and stylish. RIP, Steve. Thanks to him, and my generation X children and nephews, I have all the songs I loved ever since my childhood and a collection of folk songs from all around the world, including Balinese music that brings me back to my honeymoon days with Phillipe. I miss him. Also the soothing sound of Nina, my first born’s voice, singing the lullabies I used to sing to her. My favorite is her Barbara Streissand cover of “Smile”.
I’ve picked up my guitar again. David was like, “I never know you played, Mama!” and watched in amazement how I played and sang “Across The Universe” for him. It was like riding a bike, you never forget how to do it once you’ve learnt how. My fingers hurt after that single song though.
Ah, there I go again. I don’t even remember why I begun writing this letter in the first place. Like plenty of other things I forgot the purpose of doing in the first place. Like living. I forgot (well, we all have, haven’t we?) making a pact with God, ‘signing’ my life story and diving into my mother’s uterus.
You suddenly realize how much living is worth living when you don’t got much more life to live.
A Friend You Might Never Meet.