Grey Goodbye

I waited during most of November. My eyes scanned carefully. The grey roof opposite looked the same, as always. It was my morning routine check. If it happened at some point during the night, there should have been some signs, right?

Maybe more luck in December, she said.

She didn’t notice the frown. Surely she knew that I haven’t got much time. It’s not her fault though. Nothing in her power could bulge anything in the sky. So I just focused on the things a mere human capable of. Wishing and hoping. Maybe today’s the day. It sure feels like it.

Still nothing.

It was supposed to be special because it never happened to me, at least from where I came. I bought everything I think I should need. I figured protection and safety are prime issues. I started with browsing each crook of the top floor of a shop recommended by her. I’m comforted by her knowledge. There was a long aisle suggesting what kind of things consumers need for our present and future. With my current state, I knew it in my heart that failure to notice this would result in my slow death or tragic mummification.

It doesn’t take long to decide. I bought a pair. I was actually very proud of my investment. I wore it night and day. I might even tell her that it’s a life-changing garment. You should try it, I said. She just laughed about it. Amateurs, she might say. She survived 7 winters here. Thermal clothing is the last thing on her mind especially tight, grey ones.

Next, I succumbed to socks. To be honest, I never really saw the importance of having and wearing socks until I ventured out this far north. It does feel a bit weird walking on our baked, dusty Equatorial ground with socks for leisure. The feet beg for air circulation, not insulation. The sun smirked at fleece jacket, fur lined gloves and thigh high leather boots. Those won’t do. The humidity favors cotton, colorful rubber slippers and the exposing of bare skin. Life is a good trail of sweat trickling down the creek of your bottom.

And of course, free and perfect tan.

Lastly, I should have bought gloves. I wanted to but I already had a pair and surprisingly it was a gift in summer. She told me she would buy me a pair but he beats her to it. It was our second outing. I remember distinctly that I complained about not being able to adapt to the weather. His eyes stretching far ahead and I pretended not to notice. Men, I complained to myself. Poor little creatures with such a short span of attention.

I was wrong. Some men remember better.

Completing my ensemble, I went out every day fully garbed just in case. The cold breeze bit the tip of my nose and fingers. It takes a while for my blood to dart from my heart to my toes. I swam in endless Americanos and expressos. I dived from the tallest book towers to undetermined depth of book trenches. I drowned in my Now. I began to suspect that with one day’s notice, my wish will not be coming true.

It was the stupidest thing. In the midst of wretchedness, I sat in my room hoping for a miracle. I wanted a sign. Something. Anything. The absolute power should care, right? He should listen. I need Him. This is what I ask this year, the year of Nothing-Ever-Good-Could-Happen-To-Me. It was midnight. I was on my bed in an empty room with a big World map peeling from the wall, restless. It was unbearable. Indeed Life was. Sweat forming on the top of my lips. I hate this place, I said. We were scorching from the heat of dry season. Having two seasons didn’t help. It’s either Dry or Monsoon. Nothing fancy, nothing to look forward to.

Unless I could fly. Maybe I could escape somewhere. Somewhere lacked sun. Somewhere cold. Somewhere with snow. And with that thought I managed my first sincere smile.

I have envisioned it so many times. Snow melting in my hand. Snowman army. Snow drizzling down like sugar on strawberries. A blanket of white fur. Me sliding on slippery slope and falling on my face. Snowball empires.

The first part of the thought materialized into action. I flew. But how in the world I could convince the sky to impart some frozen icy water?

And it’s one day left.  What else to do?

Grumpy, I went out all day to say goodbye. This is quite upsetting. I traced the plank of an important dead person laying foundation of the local library. I went up to the third floor and touch the endless rows of books. I contemplate a moment of silence at the basement of a bookshop. Another half an hour at a second hand bookstore. I sat gloomily for the last time at a coffee shop draining a cup of liquid Black Hole.

In another universe, I shall find all my conflicting dreams, flickered stars, wrecked ambitions and empty promises stepped out of an old, scribbled, unrecognizable, blackened notebook as bright, colorful rose petals blooming hungrily in boundless garden. One day all this will make sense to me. Someday.

That grim, grey, cold day I wept. The day of Infinite Goodbyes and right on cue, the cloud announced rain. The streets were teaming with people scattering and searching for cover. I went inside at once. The unpleasant episode of the day is best watched from a safe place. There’s something about the sound that made me look for a big window. The sky rarely lies but what was that sound? Thumping and bouncing like racing pebbles down a creek.

It was not rain.

Those little round white things drummed the cobblestones and unfortunate heads in such a blind force that it’s painful to see. It thudded, bounced and rolled. My eyes widened. I saw another thing coming.

Hailstones, or what I read; Hope.

It’s a sign. I knew it. This is it.

20 minutes. The world was covered with grey specks. I touched some remains on a bench just to make sure that it wasn’t a dream. It really happened! A part of me wants to jump and click my heels while another bargaining to kiss strangers. I was torn thinking for appropriate response for this awesome view when a tiny white dust settled on my arm. Another landed on my shoes and a thousand more minuscule parachutes landed from heaven. My faint smile widened. The salty taste on my tongue disappeared. Really, this year wasn’t so bad after all.

I looked up at the bright clear sky and said what’s due.

Thank you.


The irony of goodbye. The mixed feelings. It’s always a blurred line. Nothing is definite. I have the range of polar opposites. Sad and happy, black and white.

I choose everything in between. I choose grey.

Friend 1: I’m doing my master’s degree

Friend 2: I’m pregnant again

Friend 3: I’m busy with my house renovation

Friend 4: I had to pick up my rabbits from the vet

Me: OMG! Josh Hutcherson was in the same country with me!


one of the biggest mistakes people make

is letting life choose their friends

instead of purposely deciding who will be in their life

cultivate your circle of friends

surround yourself with positive, supportive people

understand that you deserve to only deal with people who care about you

you should not settle for people who are not interested in giving you the support that you know you will give to them

Have you had a friend that exaggerates things so much that you’re curious that it’s true?

Like, Jaffa Cakes are the most amazing thing ever invented in the UK after the Industrial Revolution and nothing in this world could measure close to the awesomeness and the indescribable deliciousness of the thing itself. It’s like the Zeus of cakes.

I bought it just now and ate one.

I thought that Spinning Jenny was a good invention and Zeus could have tasted better.

Still Page


It would be ridiculously easy to grow up, to move on. I thought I did. It became clear when I still think my high school friends are the same ones I had 17 years ago when in fact they weren’t anymore. They are all in a different phase, different chapter.

Definitely different page.

My mom bought me a bracelet from our local market about a year ago. It was not expensive and after several months, the gold color became bronze. She saw the hideous mark it left on my wrist and insisted that I should throw it away. She’ll just buy another one. She said the same thing about my necklace. Not to throw it away, mind you but to trade it in with something she called ‘real’ gold.

It should be a simple act. Taking it off and putting it away. Silly kindergarten stuff, but I can’t do it.

I hold on to it. That’s what I do. I refused to budge from this very page. I’m still like a rock. A stupid, humongous rock.

And there lies all my problems.

But you must see, at least…that this bracelet’s sound is my only refuge when the dark thoughts dulled my mind saying that maybe I should not move again. Maybe I should just say goodbye. Why live when you cannot find your worth anymore? It was a long trench when my ears searched for the familiar ring. The little chimes made me resurface and I know that I have to keep moving.

Still, but moving.

The necklace was a different story. It’s a nervous tick, really, the one my hands would look for when I’m nervous. It could be any other necklace of any material but I bought this for myself and it’s the only material possession that can truly stay close to me, feel me breathe and granted as a stiff alibi of all my doings. There are no secrets between us.

I used to ignore this tiny little stuff that women wear. I have no reason to hold on to one. I had friends. They talk to me and I listen. We go out and had fun. We were on the very same page. We even had the same dreams until Change bluntly cut the chord.

Now I have my oxidized bracelet and locket-less necklace to accompany me. We don’t talk but we acknowledge each other. We touched and some chimed and we’re o.k with that.

It’s not that I didn’t try. My old friends seemed to leap a 100 light years before me. They said different things now, talk to different people, even dream such weird grown up bureaucratic dreams. I would tell things to them but they weren’t listening because it’s not important. I called, I wrote, I talked and I even went to see them, try to understand them, what it’s like to be like them but I only got to the surface and we disconnected. It might be the distance, the insufficient time, the stress of the job, the taking care of the husband, the children, the house, the chores, etc.

Maybe they never intended to stay after all. Maybe it really was me.

It scares me that one day I would look into another pair of eyes and failed to recognize the tattered soul reaching out for help while I’m too busy sorting out my priorities.

I guess being still is not so bad. I value my company.