Memorial Service

It was about ten days before last Christmas. Pam called me at work.

“Hey, you’re clinical mate!” Pam remarked in her typical simple-hearted tune half way through the conversation. “That’s alright, we can find another time. You treat me though…an expensive one, huh?”
 

“No problem!... Me clinical?”
 

“Ooh!... Yesss! That’s for sure!” She said as if it was a matter of fact. “By the way, he’s coming too and he said it would be his memorial service as well, ha…ha…ha… Are you sure you’re not coming this Friday evening?” She laughed hysterically.

Mid-autumn Festival is still wanted…

I am not a festival man and would try hard to get away from the celebrations, especially the traditional ones. I guess most of the younger generation only concern about the non-religious Christmas, Halloween and the Valentine’s Day. I approached this year’s Mid-autumn Festival as those before it – joining the family dinner at my parents’ place on the nearest Saturday before it. So, we celebrated the festival five days before the actual day. It was like a routine of the family, people came, ate, said “Happy Mid-autumn Festival!” and left. This year, the old man did something unusual as we were preparing to leave. He gave me two lie-sees and said, “They’re for your birthday; wish everything goes alright for you. This one’s from me and the other one your mum.” Then, he gave two to my sister and said, “These are for your birthday.”

“But mine is in November…”

Finally, I made up my mind...

Forget about why I keep forgetting how to use the tools or why this isn’t the same as Yahoo Blog or why my true name is revealed or why I can’t get into the others’ homepages and many more whys… I promise myself.

Why did you start writing in this medium in the first place?

I… I guess… I want to save up my own fleeting thoughts and memories for myself and myself only before they vanish.

Still hold true?

It's Good to be Able to Share...

Finally landed here. Old and new friends are all welcome. I'm still finding the way in this new found land, so do tolerate my inadequacies.

What can one ask for more if one finds someone who doesn't mind sharing the smell of one's shoes and seeing the holes of the old socks, especially after half a life's walk?

It is my privilege to have you visiting me. Leave your marks here if you don't mind...