And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation ~ Khalil Gibran
My dearest E.,
My mother called me this evening, and dropped a little bomb on what seemed to be a rather pleasant day at work: a day where I was quietly busy and productive, with few people in the office- they were either out for meetings, or sick, or on leave. It’s like this this time of the year. With Christmas and the New Year just around the corner, everyone gets into the jolly holiday mood, and people get lazier, though not by choice- but by imitation of those around them, perhaps.
I, however, was still somewhat bogged down with work, although, admittedly, that, too is beginning to slow down with the lull of our daily business grind. A conference organized by the Asia Business Forum this Wednesday, where I shall be presenting a topic on issues relating to the enforceability of commercial contracts, details of which are keeping me on my toes and fluttering around to prepare final notes for my speech. Another hush-hush government project, first draft due before Christmas, is also keeping me busy and panicky as the deadline looms ominously.
But ever more dreadful than work- or the thought of work: is that you will be apart from me. My parents are going to their holiday bungalow in Port Dickson for 2 nights beginning tomorrow- and have proposed that they bring you along. Either that, or I would need to beg time off from work. An impossibility at this juncture, mainly because of my conference and the looming deadline of the project: and besides, I will be on holiday break from next Thursday (21 Dec) onwards until the beginning of the new year, hooray. Your father, too- is busy and unable to take a day or two off. So we reluctantly agreed that they would take you to Port Dickson with them.
I want to breathe in every single thing about you before we are parted for the next 2 days, sweet pea. We took you out for pancakes (you’ve learnt to appreciate the finer things in life!); for a nice stroll at The Curve; we bought you some new cotton sleepsuits from Mothercare; we took you to Anakku and let you play the baby slides there; we laughed and played together with your Godma and Uncle Calvin- you were full of joy and laughter as always, walking just like an adult between your Mom & Dad, your keen eyes fixated on your shoes and the ground. A tiny little thing, you’re certainly coming out into your own now. I was hit by a pang of bittersweet emotions when I held your hand and you insisted in walking towards the huge Christmas tree being displayed in the mall.
And wasn’t it strange- it began to rain after we came home, when you were getting sleepy and fussy, making funny sounds as you leaned against me. I think the heavens must’ve sensed my woebegone heart, and the rain drizzled lightly down, telling me, it’s ok…
I lay and watched your sleep. You are an angel. I shall miss you terribly and dearly, all at the same time. Tomorrow night, I shall be liberated from my child for a short while, but it is a liberty that I shall take with the sour pain of being apart. I know that your absence shall hit me and take my breath away yet again.
I begged you for a kiss, and you kindly obliged. At least I shall have that kiss to keep me by until your return to me on Thursday.