Raunchy!!! I like!! haha :)The light on the answering machine was blinking when I walked in the door. I pressed the button and heard my husband's voice. " Hi, honey, it's me, " Ray said. " We're having a great time, but just in case a police officer comes to the door asking for me, don't worry. Everything's taken care of." I couldn't believe it. They'd been gone less than 12 hours. What could they have possibly gotten into already? Ray and Eric had met on the tennis court, athletic equals looking for a challenge. Very quickly they discovered they had other common interests- movies, music, religion, golf business, and just plain talking till the cows come home.
The first time Ray brought him home, I pasted on a smile and tried to like him. Which was hard. Eric had the polished good looks of a car salesman. His hair gelled to perfection, pristine white shirt, creased trousers and firm handshake. But was there anything beneath the surface? I wasn’t sure. That didn’t bother Ray, though. One day he came home with a pleading smile. “Eric and I are thinking of going away for a golfing weekend. What do you say? Can I go?” What did I have to say about it? Plenty! I was jealous! And I wasn’t at all thrilled at being left alone with our young children for an entire weekend. But I could see how much it meant to him. And I’d long ago accepted the fact that my extroverted husband’s social needs were far greater than mine. I bit my tongue and gave my blessing.
That first weekend adventure took their friendship to a new level. On their way to the hotel, Ray later explained, they stopped at a nearby lake to try their hands at sailing. Unfortunately, Eric didn’t sail as well as he thought he did, and Ray didn’t sail at all. After floundering hopelessly for a while, they finally caught the wind, only to discover the mini two-person boat they’d rented was way more than they could handle. They drifted into the path of a canoe containing a pair of boaters who were, if possible, even more inept. Neither party could get out of the way and they crashed. The canoe sank. Ray and Eric clumsily towed one of the canoeists back to the jetty while someone who actually knew how to sail went back for the other, floating patiently in her life jacket. Thinking that was enough sailing for one day, the guys shrugged, waved goodbye and spent the rest of the day on the greens, not knowing that an accident report was being written up with their names on it. By the time the officers caught up with them, Ray and Eric were into their second round of beers, hysterically replaying the episode. They were let off with a lecture about water safety and that was that.
Their annual golf getaway was officially established. Nurturing a new friendship is challenging. But they found ways of making a go of it. A quick cup of coffee before work. A regular Saturday morning tennis date. A round of golf every so often. Sushi lunches. Movie nights. It was hard not to be resentful. Sometimes it seemed to me that all my husband did was have fun with his friends, leaving me to be his surly after-hours secretary. "is Ray there?" "Can I talk to Ray?" Some days I wanted to say, “Ray’s not home. I don’t know when he’ll be home and when he does get here, he’s busy with dishes and nappies. Have a nice day.” Of course, I never did.
Then one evening the phone rang. It was Eric. “How’s it going?” he asked. “ What are you writing these days?” I swallowed my automatic response and told him. “Wow, that’s great. How are the kids?” Again I frowned. What did he care about our kids? But if nothing else, he was being polite. I answered him and before I knew it, we were deep in conversation. Then I heard Ray’s footsteps in the hall. “Ray just got home, Eric. Hang on, and I’ll get him for you.” “No, that’s OK,” he said quickly. “Just tell him I’ve booked tennis for Thursday lunch. Thanks!” and he hung up. I couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had a message for me, but he wanted to talk to me too. “You shouldn’t be surprised,” Ray told me. “He always asks about you and the kids. And he’s really interested in your work.”
Well who knew? Little things cemented their friendship, like a coffee brought to the office on a busy day or an e-mail saying “Hey, buddy, how’s your day going?” but neither one realised how precious their camaraderie had become until the year Ray casually suggested inviting a mutual friend along on their annual getaway. “You should have seen Eric’s face,” Ray told me later. Eric’s façade had finally cracked. He admitted to Ray that their gold weekend was something special they shared together, and he didn’t want to change that. In an age when any friendship between two heterosexual men is looked at with suspicion, it was an unprecedented moment. They’d gone past the typical slap-on-the-back guy relationship to something more: the quiet knowledge of their value to each other. From that time on, I never complained about Ray’s time with Eric. In fact, it wasn’t long before Eric began to open up to me, little by little. He suddenly became real to me. I learned to see past the shine and gloss, and grew to love him.
I opened the door to Eric one Friday evening. He was a little early to pick Ray up for their dinner and movie night, he apologised, following me into the kitchen. “No problem,” I said, waving him to a chair. “We can talk while I make dinner for the kids.” He slid into the seat and as he relaxed, the fatigue began to show. Personal challenges dovetailed with exciting business ventures had left him exhausted. “It’s all good,” he said, shaking his head, “but it’s too much all at once.” I sympathised and reassured him that his would pass. “I know,” he answered with a tired smile. “And a night out with Ray is just what I need.” Ray arrived home. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m so late!” “I’m glad you were,” Eric answered. “It gave me a chance to talk with your wife.” ‘Get going you guys,” I said, giving them each a kiss. “You don’t want to be late. Have a great time!” They grabbed their jackets, laughing and jostling each other. “We will,” they answered together.
One week after their movie night, Eric collapsed during a squash game. By the time he reached the hospital, he was gone. I held Ray when he learned of his friend’s death. I wept with him at the funeral, knowing that in a world full of shallow, short-lived relationships, Ray and Eric had the real thing, a friendship of great value. It’s Ray’s loss, but mine too. We mourn together, as a family. Sometimes it’s hard to share my husband with other people. I used to think of marriage as two people against the world, everything to each other. But that’s not how it is, nor should it be. Eric’s companionship nurtured a part of Ray’s life that I can never fully understand. Ray and Eric had an excellent adventure together. And I’m so glad they did.
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this would be my last post in spore for a long long time..wasnt inspired much to blog lately, partly due to packing and getting ready, and also, everything is taking on a more sombre note. and its surprising that im not very excited yet. guess the gravity wld only sink in fully when i arrive there. my last week here has been very productive, meeting a few grps of ppl in a day and eating all the good food that i can and spending as much time with fam as possible. to wax lyrical about everyone would take quite some time, and ive realised that half of them dunno abt this blog's existence, so i think the poem below the pics would do better. enjoy =) its really really beautiful and so well-written, and surprise! its written by spore's budding shakespeare wanna-be, favian poh, S46's enfant terrible who gave it to me as a 'gift'. unique indeed haha. tho you wouldnt be reading this fav, a big thanks for the rubbish and crap youve done with dev to entertain me during lectures and tuts in jc. uve added a fun, albeit spastic dimension to S46.
The Song of Life
She:
When I was but a little girl
I looked at my grandma, and asked her all about the world
She said: “Sweetie, look into my eyes
For where there was once rustling grass and vanilla skies
There are only crippling heartaches and burdened sighs
These eyes have grown old, and wearily wise.
Run with the wind, dive into the hay
Make no sense of the ills to come, nor care beyond the day.
Let not the light leave your face, or worry cross your eyes
Indeed, thought would destroy your paradise.
Never exchange the unexplored wonders of youth
For the emotional pinions of truth.”
--
Now that those days are confined to the past
Pray tell what life has in store for us.
For this journey we have taken together
Will it end in implacable dusk?
Or does it really matter
If to each other our souls forever tether.
--
He:
In the very old and the very young
The song of the angels is loudest among
It is truly ironic that in youth we hanker for truth
And yet in truth yearn for the innocence of youth
Yet life, in all the facets it can be
Is an unrivalled thing to see
To see the sky in an irradiated dew
To see time in a wizened yew
To see love in a bodied rose
To see life in a meandering prose
--
She:
Tell me about Sun, River and Earth
Tell me about the eternal Hope
Tell me about the Hyena’s mirth
Tell me why you leave me in suspended girth
Tell me why I must henceforth in darkness grope
--
He:
About Sun, River and Earth I cannot tell
For their stories in timeless dwell
Many stories indeed I cannot say
For they would take longer than eternity and a day
Skip the race between dove and swallow I must
And the songbirds’ battle on the plain of whistling grass
There was once a town, over yonder hills and far away
Through unravelled mists and Father Time’s sway
Its name was Onriath, and it was amidst
War, Famine, Pestilence and Death
The four horsemen of the Apocalypse
With bow, scale and warmongering lust
Verdant fields died into windswept heaths
And mortar walls into pale dust.
Yet sorrow did not, could not cloud any face
For which mortar is stronger than faith?
They lit candles in the darkest hours of night
Banishing shadows and stilling fright
Bathing faces in flickering light
That is the story of hope, an ever-brightening ray
Even as the skies turn an angrier shade of grey
--
I must go, I cannot tarry
For indecision, Time and Tide have no mercy.
You have your part in life to play; I have mine
Our roles in life can never marry.
--
She:
A truth, though in good intent
Beats all the lies you could invent
Woe that my place is with my home
While yours is with the sky as your dome
Knowing what is about to pass
I would give anything for this day to last
--
He:
We are like leaves, riven from a tree
Completely hapless at the Winds’ mercy
When the East wind rises in strength
Westwards we thus bank
When the West wind rises, making us veer
Eastwards we then steer
If the winds should equal in strength contend
Mid-air we will thus suspend
In life no matter which way we choose to fall
We oft have no say in it at all
--
She:
Alas, the sweetest of honeys from any bee
Would seem like the bitter juice of Impossibility’s tree
I pray that the River of Hope spills its banks
And brings you back safe and soon to me
--
He:
Home is where the heart is
Through hoary mountains and Winter’s grasp
Through Autumn’s leafy blanket and Summer’s gasp
Through Spring’s vibrancy and Mystery’s cloak
Through crumbling castles and murky moat
Through forest’s cradle and yawning cave
Through windy coast and hero’s grave
Through neighbour’s hedge and noxious sedge
Through looming shadow and sprawling meadow
Home will always be where the heart is
--
She:
May you then encounter every creature of every size
Whether hippopotamus, turtle, or rhinoceri
May you walk unmolested through mountain and plain
Whether wyrm, serpent or dragon in your way lies
May you accomplish all deeds great and small
Yet return as you were before
--
He:
I will return with every sort of tale
Like how the dog had a flagon of ale
And ended up chasing its tail
Or about the toad which killed a fly
And caused the hungry spider to unfortunately die
How the unicorn got its horn
And also the tarpan’s jealous scorn
How the monkeys celebrate internal strife
But yet grieve for any slain by a hunter’s knife
The story of Water-- the ugly truth, the beautiful lie
The view from the top of every mountain nigh
The love story of Sun and Moon
That makes so many lovers cry and poets swoon
I will return, hearty and hale
And regale you with every sort of tale
--
She:
I hope you conquer the azure mountains in the distance
May you never take, but never fear, the path of most resistance
Hear the cry of every hunted hare
Wear the shimmering stars in your hair
I hope all your hopes and dreams take wing
And that for you all the cherubs heavenly sing
--
He:
Look into the stars at night, for there you will see me
Look into your heart when you are lonely, for there you will feel me
Our paths diverge here, and I will glimpse you across the sky
For you cannot change, and nor can I
--
She:
The dark waters under the bridge reflect my melancholic woe
Yet when all that you said I now rightly know
Through life I can then happily go
Forever looking across Infinity’s moor
Forever waiting at Eternity’s door
Even without intervention divine
In every pine I can see a rosy twine
In every dark cloud a silver line
Yet how would a single man make a difference in this world
You could not stop the wind from blowing, or the maelstrom’s whirl
--
He:
You see this caterpillar I just returned to the tree?
Our actions resonate further than we can see
This caterpillar will futurely a beautiful butterfly be
And then the difference you will more clearly see
No matter how minor it may seem
It made a world of difference to him
--
She:
A caterpillar I must then be
For you have made a world of difference to me
I will hang my harp on yonder weeping willow tree
And pray the world goes fair with thee
For you have made a world of difference to me
