Coƒƒee §wirls & Velvét Cake ƒor You*

i forgot my gloves.
i thought they were in the car where i usually leave them, but i couldn't find them once i parked at the train station. unusually, it wasn't so cold; a beautiful clear day. i was wearing my thick university hoodie under my black coat, and had my wide scarf hung over my bag, so i had places to hide my fingers when they did start to numb out.

the law class i have on mondays for two hours and a half is affecting me unlike most of the classes i've taken. we're required to read a book written by a lawyer who acted on behalf of some 600 ppl who suffered a major and traumatizing loss. you may have heard of buffalo creek. you may, like me, have not. but in reading up on the train, i had to hold back tears. other than all the legal processes, you get first hand accounts of the people... the men, who just tried and tried but couldn't save their babies. others watching their wives drown before their eyes, just out of arm's reach.
it sounded like a wheel was loose under the tram i was in. i looked out the window opposite me into the pitch black of outside. he'd let us out early, but i still couldn't beat the sunset. speeding reflections of light appeared briefly, and i knew we were high up above the highway. in a split second, the metallic rattling could give way and the tram could come loose, and i'd drop my book and cling to my seat's rail and do nothing but hold on, breath and call God.
but we just kept going. the driver was going a little faster than usual and that made for a relatively bumpy ride. so i stopped reading. instead, i noted that just about everyone who was in the tram with me was wearing black. i still held the small novel open between my thumb and baby finger, but my eyes were on the asian man who sat perpendicular to me. he was bundled up in a dark navy blue coat and though his hair was still black save for a few otherwise unnoticeable silver strands, you could tell he was on the older side. on his lap he had his large bag, and he had raised both his arms to rest on it. in his hands was what seemed to be a usatoday cutout; a large print of a sudoku puzzle. as we all jostled in unison, he peered through his glasses and traced the boxes with his free finger. with his left hand, he filled in the numbers as he concentrated and figured them out; his numbers, childish. his twos, one looped, one straight. he had filled out the middle square the most when he grabbed everything too fast for me to notice and got off at his stop along with others, leaving me as the only black clad person on one end of the tram.
it takes mere seconds to appreciate life that is not even your own. let your eyes dart.

on the side wall a miniposter for depression research. "do you suffer from: -being sad or irritated? -having suicidal thoughts -not having any energy? -losing interest in hobbies and friends? -believing life is not worth living?-" i snickered. who do these people think has the right to judge the worth of living? if i gave you a glass of... what, orange juice, apple juice. cherry juice. whatever you like. and you taste it. then i give you a glass of air. how much more worthy is the glass of juice to you as opposed to the empty one? death has no worth, and we have not experienced otherwise to be capable of measuring life.


i changed out my mutemath cd and slid in the earthsuit one as i tried to drive with my knees. the good ol' end-of-90s. sounds so far and out fashioned huh. but the songs you grew up to will always sound good.
i would have been able to reach my estimate/goal of parking the car by the end of 'said the sun to the shine' for a grand finale of a trip and a grand entrance home --if it weren't for the fact that the garage door opener refused to function. the song ended with my headlights half a meter from the door and me fiddling with the battery of the ingenious contraption consisting of a rubber button, plastic casing, some wiring i'm sure, and said battery. on which i now pressed the metal frame with my fingers. the door opened majestically, and my hair remained bound by gravity.

mark had called me. i hate it when i miss his call. it's a rare pleasure, and gives me my "worth" to be there for my brother. i thought of all my younger cousins too. i feel like a big sister, and i love it. i never realized i had a sincere affinity of being the one who took care of the kids during reunions. the eldest girl of 14 on my father's side, and second eldest to my married cousin out of 13 on mum's side. most i know well, and we are close. full houses are fun.

this summer will, God willing, be my third year at camp. first year i was a counselor. the second, i was asked to be a covenant leader as well as taking on a group of kids. this year, i've been asked to be part of a team of directors who serve other counselors as we all make the day as fun as possible for the day. if you knew me before 3 years ago, you'd know i didn't like kids. just wasn't fond of them. i've seen hearts of stone broken. mine wasn't stone, but it was definitely changed.
i know couple of my closer friends won't be at camp, but it's not about me and it's not about them, it's about those smiling faces pleading with you to return next year. if God calls, there will be no regret found. and so i cancel my plans to travel to the beach.


i'll submit by application for graduation this week.
it's about time.

Soos,

i enjoyed, as always, reading you. fantastic insights and refined thoughts... VERY Proud of you! y.