The Passage of Time

I was struck by how time was ebbing away while I was at mum's place over the weekend. Mum's place was always an escape for me. Going back to my former bedroom which dad now occupies, I could almost re enact the memories of my childhood. My room overlooks a playground, this very playground my son fell off the playground equipment 4 years ago and had to be whisked off in an ambulance and treated for fractured tibia and fibula. There was also a multi-purpose court for badminton and sepak takraw and a row of shops which has now changed hands many times. There was once a video rental shop where mum constantly patronize to get her Hong Kong drama series fix. The mama provision store sit directly below my living room, where we bought our freshly grated coconut, beer and ciggies for visitors. Gopal, the shop owner who counts mum as a regular regular and allowed us to buy these questionable items without questioning. I swear we were tempted to knock 3 times on our floor with a bamboo pole and Gopal would send up our groceries. Some things never change, I still tell my mum, "hey I will meet you by Gopal's shop". I wonder where he is now.

Mum has a knack for making the house look pseudo new and refreshing although we've had this home for close to 25 years. She rearranges the furniture, just little adjustments here and there and viola, a new look. We think mum's a genius, a Martha Stewart or sorts. The house recently got a fresh coat of paint after some retrofitting works (home improvement scheme from the govt). Mum's thrilled she got 2 new toilets, new pipes, new kitchen floor, a new fire proof door and wrought iron gates which was literally falling apart. I was hoping to win a big lottery and buy my folks an apartment but since I don't see that happening anytime soon, the new fittings was just what my parents needed. On hindsight, mum always made the home very cozy even though we don't have expensive furnishings. The softness of the tea lights that illuminate the home was enough to make you indulge into a sweet slumber. The harshness of fluorescent lighting can be such a killjoy to anything. Everything looks better fuzzy.

So going back to where I started, going through some of my personal belongings still boxed up in one corner of the bedroom, lies old photo albums, school yearbooks, the odd Home Economics textbook, a stack of birthday cards, letters, diaries, autograph books, things I have forgotten that I even had. Its almost surreal to read those old aerogrammes from old friends, diary entries that still amazes me. Recalling places I have been, food I have eaten, people I have been with, movies I have seen, with who and where. What really amazes me are my primary school friends still remembers me after 30 years. I begin to wonder if they remember my smile or that I was a nasty girl hanging around the old National Library before school hours, not necessarily to borrow books but also to do with some boys in white uniforms with green badges who hung around the vicinity. Reminiscing, I miss that library down at Stamford Road. You almost feel like an academic doing your research in that massive landmark, every book that came with a library card and date due stamped on the first page. Its all so personal back then, now my librarian is a machine.

There's a part in all of us which yearns to go back in time just for a day, to relive the moment, to unite with friends we left behind, to say the things we didn't get to say, to tell them how sorry you were, how much you actually love them but because of choices we had to make then.

I became aunt to a new born baby on Valentine's Day. My younger sister delivered a bouncy baby much to the delight of everyone in the family. Its been almost 11 years since we last had a baby in the household. About time I thought. It was such a thrill to hold a baby. I have almost forgotten how to hold one, to smell them which I feel almost obliged to do. These new born have that unique scent that can never be replicated. My baby sister is now a mother. Feeding and tending to her child, she's now so complete, no longer the little girl I used to know. She's all grown up and ready to embrace motherhood with all her heart and soul. Describing the pain she had to endure without an epidural. While just few short years ago I was listening to her talking about her varsity days.


I am somewhat of a hoarder. I have problems parting with things that may mean very little to some people. I will even keep a stub of a train ticket or a cinema counterfoil. I'd see them once every few years, noticing much they have mildewed and eradicating the occasional silverfish which was chowing up my photo album. My boys are actually enjoying reading what my friends wrote about me in autograph books some 25 years ago. They asked if I still kept in touch with this person or that person. Some I said are in my iphone contacts but many I have lost touch or moved to another country or worse, left the face of this earth.

These are "priceless", I quote my primary school friend who saw my posting of a movie advertisement which I have kept and dated. I did that for a short while. After the watching the movie, I'd go back to the papers, cut up the ad, stick them on a notebook, date them, rate them and who I went the move with. I am sure my friend didn't remember ever having watch that movie let alone with who. I now understands why mum still keep a denim jumper that my sister wore in the early 70s. The same jumper I wore, then my younger sister, its ridiculous. But some things just last forever don't they? Now where did mum kept that woolen booty I wore as a baby. I am 100% sure its around. Now should I even wonder if my mum kept my sister's dried up umbilical stump. I like all things old-school, don't blame me. I just cannot keep up with the latest gadgets. I have problems managing digital photographs, but getting better.

Time, ticking away mercilessly. Listen, that second just gone. If you don't freeze it, don't over estimate that memory of yours...but I do wish time could be slowed down especially when you are happy and yearn for precious moments to linger a little longer. I am not ready to deal with my son's acne problem. That explains why people say "funny how time flies when you are having fun".

Parenting...my style

Over the last few weeks there were some thought provoking media I came across which dabbled on the topic of parenting. I decided to reflect on my own style of parenting. Wall Street Journal and New York Times does its best when you like to ponder over opinions. Amy Chua, Professor of Yale Law School guarded her children with an iron fist, dragon-lady, child abuser...call her what you want. She is now subjected to critics, several detractors that slams her style. Strangely and from her claims on a lot of Chinese parent, her system works, so what can you do about it?

I don't know which style of parenting is more widely adopted, but with any relationships, there's no right or wrong and its none of our business to judge. Our very own parenting style would be equally subjected to scrutiny. If a child excels in school, displays good character and ability, then we immediately assume that he was well brought up and it reflects good parenting. Then its vice versa.

My dad was self employed and runs a company selling American stainless steel cookware. He was a busy man but gave us what I thought was adequate attention. Mum was a housewife and she took care of most of our needs. All three of us were mostly given the liberty to manage our homework. My sisters and I had the opportunity to learn classical piano but I wondered if it was ever our choice. For me its was "sister did it so I should too". It never lasted. We never had tuition even though my second language and math were just mediocre. It was only later in junior college when I needed to get a pass for my second language did my parents offered to hire a home tutor for me. Even with that extra help, my foundation wasn't adequate to see to a pass. We spoke mainly English and dialect at home. Mum spoke fluent bahasa malayu and Dad was bilingual. We watched lots of Mandarin programmes, Cantonese drama serials but mainly it was English pop songs that blasted from our boombox. English sitcoms like Family Ties, Different Strokes, The Cosby Show were our staple.

I don't recall mum and dad ever coming to parent teacher conferences (was there ever one during my time?). Not that they didn't want to but it was never required. I guess we didn't cause much of a stir in school to warrant a school visit. So long at the end of each semester, we brought home our report cards without a comment like "your child is seriously...... We usually get good comments from teachers anyway (ahem). That was probably good enough for my parents to know that we are not going to join the secret society. When it was time for us to enter secondary school, any school was a good school. Co-ed it was. We had a "no boys allowed" policy for the longest time. My 18th birthday was the only exception, and that's the moment when my folks finally worked that out, that at 18, I need boys in my life.

We were allowed to buy casettes, pop magazines, fill our bedroom walls with centrefold pin ups of idols, peeling off paints at the same time. We kept our rooms relatively neat and if my memory didn't fail me, my sister only had 2 girlfriends for a sleepover. It was convenient as we had 4 bedrooms, so rooms were more than enough. But never the other way around. My parents always had issues with that, and I have somewhat adopted their style, sleepovers were restricted to cousins. My first sleepover was when I was 17 and we had to bunk with my buddy after a night at the disco. We took turns to wash our ashtray smelling hair, chatted till 3am, and waking up late morning with breakfast prepared by the lovely mother of my buddy. But that's also because we didn't want to pay for midnight surcharges which for a college student, extravagant.

Although mum and dad were strict, they had reasonable curfews. We had to be home by 11pm. I think now that I am married with a family, I have quite naturally kept to that curfew. Not that I am a party pooper, but I just have obligations to my family and I don't think anyone should fault me for that. I guess because I was brought up in non-traditional Chinese family, which resulted in what we are today, I can conclude that have had a pretty decent and happy childhood. My boys are allowed to stay up late during school vacation, watch TV, play computer games, the freedom to choose their CCAs, select their own clothes, have the latest toys, eat whatever they want. I am guilty of bargaining though and some form of barter trading. I give them the freedom in exchange for good grades. I don't expect straight As, but would be a real bonus if they did come home with As. I will get really mad if I felt they have not put in their best effort and that is when I take away privileges. I have been chatised for being so laid back, my expectations of my children so low. I never once bought a cane and never will. I have never spank my children and never will. I have never yelled at my children and never will. I respect them for who they are and I expect the same from them. Every child is unique and the last thing you want is a clone. If you want your children to be your friend, you have to befriend them first. You get to their level and then you will understand why they do the things they do. Children want to be independent just as adults, we don't like to be caged up or dictate their every move. Children do know what they want and what they don't want. Eg. Son No. 1 was approached recently by the head mistress to stand for election for the post of Head Prefect. The boy politely turned down the offer and apologised that he was happy to just remain as regular prefect. Simply because he felt the need to focus his attention on his school work. Some parents would have jumped and trust me, I was a bit uncomfortable about his lack of interest in developing his leadership skill and was getting too cushy in his post. I queried him, heart to heart, why he turned the head mistress down without much consideration. He then told me that he would need a lot of time campaigning, and the opportunity cost being time away from homework, plus he may not necessarily get elected. While I don't necessarily agree with him, I respected his decision. Now he is happy and even happier to be a campaign manager for his classmate, like Joe Biden for Barack Obama, a running mate. Another scenario, both the boys were asked if he would like to go to Suzhou for an immersion change programme. Heavily subsidized and great opportunity for learning outside the classroom. I was like, "go go go, good for you" but the boys were like "no no no, not good for us without mum and dad!" They were not ready to travel without us, well so be it. "Another time then," I said, "whenever you are ready".

To me, even with a best fool proof formula of parenting, the best input may not equate the best output. We will not know how our children will turn out. There will be lots of trial and error, mistakes big and small. We just have to give it our best shot and pray for God's blessings. If you think you have done your best, then by your personal standards, you have. So what if you pay thousands for violin lessons, you can't force your child to join the orchestra if he has decided to be banker, instead he display his stradivarius in his office.

Gotta go get them home from sports practice, I leave you with this thought....

Its all about the Family

You can't ignore that Christmas is creeping in again. Every little craggy nook, every mega mall you step into, your heartland shopping plaza, even your neighbourhood vendors are cashing in on the all too familiar commercialism we had for many years associated with the birth of Christ. Look, we are even among the top 5 countries for the best lit street. To me its just lots of fluff and a dream come true for shopaholics and a huge bill for the tax payers.

Some very very serious spending takes place at this time of the year, fat year end bonuses creating snake queues at cashiers, vacation teens working overtime, impatient shoppers waiting to have their gift wrapped are a sure sign that the economy is moving fast and fury. Guilty or doting parents snapping up the latest toys, making sure their children has the latest toy, not to be outdone by the geek next door. Year-end corporate dinners pumping up hotel profits, home parties decked with turkey, hams, log cakes, free pouring wines there's really reasons to be jolly...plain and simple. We want to be happy, even if its just for a while. But be prudent how often you swipe that little piece of plastic.

I love Christmas. For the simple reason that its less of a fuss than Chinese New Year. I am not being the pseudo westerner here but I think as a child, the memories I had, rushing to help mum set up the Christmas tree, to be mum's finest helper. As a child, you are not aware of spatial distribution, so I would have the part of decorating the tree with whispy sliver of cotton wool. I mean how fun can it be to rip open red packets, finding pieces of notes. We didn't understand the value of money, not knowing money could actually multiply if you put in the bank. Christmas comes with spirit of giving and receiving. If you ask me, I prefer to be on the giving end. It nice no doubt to receive a gift but to receive a great gift, I am not too sure, we always console ourselves that its the thought that counts. A great gift at this juncture of my life could be a car, doesn't come with a humble price tag. But a thoughtful gift goes a long way, a bag of coffee beans will send me to 7th heaven simply because you know I can never go by a day without coffee. There's a sense of happiness when you know the person is actually enjoying your gift. I can appreciate how one can succumb to a migraine just thinking what to buy for a loved one. That's why I configured, if you can't get a great gift for someone, don't just get one for the heck of it. I will thank you for not creating another piece of clutter in my home because recycling gift is not my style. I was thankful my family members agreed on a "gifts for children only". It was such a huge burden off, both monetary and psychologically. But today's children are really brats in sheep's clothing. They don't believe in hinting what they want anymore. Under my tree are two big boxes, I can tell you now, inside are 2 nerf guns picked up two weeks ago by my children, beautifully wrapped without an element of surprise. Now they are both absolutely disgusted that Christmas is still a few days away.

And speaking of gift wrapping, if there's one thing I could do after I retire, provided I don't suffer from arthritis, I wouldn't mind manning a gift wrapping counter. Although I know how it makes a huge difference between wrapping your gifts at home and wrapping before countless pairs of impatient gawking eyes. Gift wrapping could be rocket science for some, but don't be a scrooge, buy your own gift wrap paper, take it home, get your wife, girlfriend or mum to help. Women have a knack for such things. We are just better with cutting and pasting.

Its so easy to forget that you don't need to wait till Christmas, Valentine's day or a birthday to get someone a gift. Best when he or she is caught unaware. It does makes the recipient blush that you are thinking about him or her when no one else does. It doesn't have to be anything luxe, the simplest, most meaningful gift you'll ever give will be something given with your heart.

Christmas always conjures a sense of peace and serenity, although missing a fireplace, its always been more of a cosy celebration of the family, emulating the togetherness of the nativity....for me at least.

Gifts, feasting, trimmings are all just a fraction of the spirit of Christmas. Family members coming together to share a simple meal, catching up over mum's dishes, in my case celebrating daddy's birthday as well, to be able to spend yet another Christmas with my family should be the greatest Christmas gift I ever want. Bring on the Christmas cheer.

Joyeux Noël!

A MOM'S LIFE - Delia Ephron

Take your plate into the kitchen, please.

Take it downstairs when you go.

Don’t leave it there.

Take it upstairs.

Is that yours?

Don’t hit your brother.

I’m talking to you.

Just a minute, please. Can’t you see I’m talking?


I said, don’t interrupt.

What are you doing out of bed?

Go back to bed.

What do you mean, there’s nothing to do?

Go outside.

Read a book.

Turn it down.

Get off the phone.

Tell your friend you’ll call her back.

Right now.

Hello. No, she’s not home.

She’ll call you when she gets home.

Take a jacket. Take a sweater.

Take one anyway.

Someone left his shoes in front of the TV.

Get the toys out of the hall.

Get the toys out of the bathtub.

Get the toys off the stairs.

Do you realize that could kill someone?

Hurry up.

Hurry up. Everyone’s waiting.

I will count to ten and then we’re going without you.

Did you go to the bathroom?

If you don’t go, you’re not going.

I mean it.

Why didn’t you go before we left?

Can you hold it?

What’s going on back there?

Stop it.

I said, stop it!

I don’t want to hear about it.

Stop it or I’m taking you home right now.

That’s it. We’re going home.

Give me a kiss.

I need a hug.

Make your bed.

Clean up your room.

Set the table.

I need you to set the table.

Don’t tell me it’s not your turn.

Please move your chair up to the table.

Sit up.

Just try a little. You don’t have to eat the whole thing.

Stop playing and eat.

Would you watch what you’re doing?

Move your glass. It’s too close to the edge.

Watch it.

More what?

More please. That’s better.

Just eat one bite of salad.

You don’t always get what you want. That’s life.

Don’t argue with me. I’m not discussing this anymore.

Go to your room.

No, ten minutes are not up.

One more minute.

How many times have I told you, don’t do that.

Where did the cookies go?

Eat the old fruit before you eat the new fruit.

I’m not giving you mushrooms.

I’ve taken all the mushrooms out, see?

Is your homework done?

Stop yelling. If you want to ask me something, come here.

STOP YELLING.
IF YOU WANT TO ASK ME SOMETHING, COME HERE!

I’ll think about it.

Not now.

Ask your father.

We’ll see.

Don’t sit so close to the television.

It’s bad for your eyes.

Calm down.

Calm down and start over.

Is that the truth?

Fasten your seat belt.

Did everyone fasten their seat belts?

I’m sorry that’s the rule.

I’m sorry, that’s the rule.

I'm sorry, that's the rule!

Brevity...

Brevity....

def: shortness of time or duration; briefness: the brevity of human life

Did you realised how quickly this weekend went by? Mum came by on Sunday, made her a long black, chatted over leftover mooncakes. We browsed old magazines with mouth-watering recipes and discussed how she thought making green curry was as easy as ABC. Mum has been harping I should learn some of her signature dishes and gets pretty disturbed that I have not taken an interest in learning how to cook our all-time favourite dishes. I showed her recently taken pictures of her grandchildren at school, their achievements and how they were doing in school. We later had dinner, shared a plate of mee goreng with her and sipped teh-chinno. It was a moment I cherished. Time, whisked away every second, never to return.

To make a point, you yearn for a fun packed weekend as the work week had just been plain weary, all you needed is to have some interesting read by the pool, about lifestyles, motoring, cooking, food reviews or what a sommelier's last meal would be. Morbid. Then, on the front page of Sunday Times, reporting a hit and run accident in London causing an premature end to a young life all of 20. Not an ordinary girl she was, she was an exceptionally bright young lady pursuing medicine in Cambridge, a darling and star student that would do Singapore very proud. Probably a top notch surgeon after she graduates with top class honours. Nope, it was not meant to be. Wrong place, wrong time. She is dead. That gets you thinking A LOT. Brevity of life. Period.

I lost a classmate in 2006 to cancer. We met when when we were 14. Full of zest for life. She literally pranced while the little bells attached to her purse jingled as she walks. Her parents are food stall owners but in our 21 years of friendship, she never once brought us there to sample what her parents sold for a livelihood. Their daily takings that would eventually see her complete her university education in Singapore and then an all expense paid Europe trip as a reward. She should have been more proud of them than anything else that mattered to her. Among the five of us in our clique, she was the only one that made it to university. We knew she could go very far. As commerce was her strength, she worked for a local bank after graduation. She shared a Mercedes coupe with her husband. That was their baby. With her condition, she could never conceive. Not that she wanted to, as she is widely travelled, having children on tow, milk bottles and diapers would dampen (pun not intended) any trip. She wasn’t ready. The months preceding her departure, her husband continued piling her with overseas trips. She maintained normalcy, shopped for wigs, went for facials, and I remembered our last meal together with another close buddy. “Hey girls, when I am gone, you two must continue this makan thing ok, there’ll only be the two of you.” About a month later she didn’t know who we were. Brevity, she left us prematurely at 35. I was with her a day before she passed. I couldn’t understand life and why she wasn’t lucid anymore. I wanted to shake her so badly as I wanted her to know I was there to see her. Morphine was her only comfort. We took our leave reluctantly as her husband needed more time with her than us. But we knew that was the last we will see of her. Ironically, her husband remarried that same year. He gave us a whole new meaning to “move on in life”. I couldn’t fathom the logic and I obviously cannot count. I am side-tracking here, but its rather disturbing.

Why do I kiss my boys before they go to bed each night? God's agenda has and will always be a mystery. Kiss and make up, never go to bed feeling resentful over someone. Tomorrow may never come. Have you ever notice how lovely your babies are they are asleep. They are the most beautiful creatures. So serene, so innocent. God forbid, don’t ever take them away from me. That’s also why I tell them I love them forever and ever amen. Two and a half months ago, I received a rude call on a weekend informing me a student from my the school I worked at fell six floors from his apartment. But I just saw the boy on Friday? He was only ten and what was going to happen to his twin? They were inseparable and how would his mum feel? I cannot imagine a mother losing a child and I refuse to understand. The only word that came to mind was WHY? It was the saddest weekend ever. The twins were always playing “guess who am I” with me at the office during snack time. Pure and innocent. Taken with such cruel abruptness. No more guessing games and I don’t even know what to say to the remaining twin except for an uncomfortable hello. I miss the boy. I miss seeing them together.

Do not fret the small things. Make the trip to see your friends, relatives, visit mum and dad. You don’t need a reason to see them. Wanting to see them is already a reason. Life isn't a drama series, predictable and always at the same time and channel. Embrace the real time, the here and now. That is what matters. Procrastination gets you nowhere, only regrets.

You will reap a more meaningful life if you consider the fragility of life and its brevity. I have to stop now as I need to go tell me boys something….

You Don't Bring Me Flowers....

Last week at the office, there were flowers everywhere. Valentine's Day is still months away and I was wondering what's with the men sending flowers to their wives at work and they all seem to want to outdo one other. To a point, I suspected the ladies buy themselves flowers, just to get at each other. They then went on to publish their gorgeous bouquets on Facebook for all to see. Honestly, I envied them to death. The flowers just screams I LOVE YOU AND I DON'T MIND SPENDING $80 ON A PERISHABLE JUST TO MAKE YOUR DAY. Flowers just have this effect. I couldn't help but felt a little jealous and so did a few of my other colleagues who are shamelessly asking their boyfriends to buy them flowers like NOW! Being a sour grape, I nudged one of them on Facebook, asking them what was the occasion? If it wasn't a birthday or an anniversary, then it could only mean one thing. THE MEN ARE GUILTY. But having once owned a flower shop, there are 1001 reasons to buy flowers. But I can also now conclude that there will be some men who will be more romantic than others, or your own spouse.

I will kill the next person who thinks white men are more romantic than our local Chinese men. But I sometimes blame the ladies for being a scrooge or maybe we are a more practical lot and we know money are hard earned and one should never waste them on things that wouldn't last. And so the men took it literally. So they would tell their men not to buy them flowers yet they all become green-eyed monsters when the secretary gets a bunch of striking red roses that adorn her desk for 3 days before they turn brown and floppy. Some men are just born to romance. They have a way to make the girls go weak and some girls just falls hopelessly in love, and get haplessly hurt when things go wrong. Although I wouldn't mind getting flowers on a dull day at work, I think I would be too stunned to get flowers that I'd be attention deficit and would just gawk at the flowers and not get back on task. But I think if I'd ever get a bunch, it'll probably be a sorry bouquet cuz my husband and I are past that stage. We don't need such outward declaration of love. Making me a cup of coffee, buying the weekend papers, sending me to work on a rainy day does it for me. The honeymoon is over but we are now going on a long haul.

I told my husband before we got married, Love Me As A Package. You can't pick and choose. I wasn't pimply, I had an ok face, I wasn't too short, too tall, but too bad I don't have Cameron Diaz legs or Scarlett Johansson's bosoms. Take it or leave it. I also accepted him for who he was. A Mr Nice Guy, an ok face, wasn't too short nor too tall, no six packs or a Calvin Klein underwear model wannabe. Personality and sense of humour goes a longer way. Someone told me to invest more time with my spouse than my children. Radical but I think this person has a point. Once our parental duties diminish, you are going to be stuck with this person till death do us part. People generally scratch the surface of things. Oh look at Mr Jones, so romantic, always this and that. But is Mr Jones the kind that would take your mother out. Be thankful your man loves your mum like his own. How he treats his mum and yours, he will love you just the same. Just look around, there's some truth. But there's a thin line bewteen loving your mum and being tied to her apron string. Subtle difference but we all know that can be catastrophic. I have boys and I know I want to be tied to my boys for as long as I live. We just have to know when to let go.

Do we marry our soulmates, one will never know till the very end. My parents are always on each other's nerves, yet they are together for over 40 years. They have gotten used to each other habits, good and bad. Mum tells me Dad drives her crazy, I would reply to her that that was the very reason she chose to marry him!!! I will continue to pick my husband's dirty socks, rearrange his wardrobe cuz he will continue to pull his favourite tee-shirt from the bottom of the pile and messes up. He will disapprovingly put my towel back on the bathroom towel rack, remove the shells from prawns so my fingers remain clean, rescue me from bus stops during heavy downpours cuz I hate carrying umbrellas. Nobody does it better than the one we marry. Its simply loving unconditionally.

Nevermind if you don't bring me flowers, just bring back a tub of ice cream on the way back from the petrol station. The next time you wish to surprise your spouse, cook her a meal instead. Poor culinary skills? Go to a hawker centre western food joint, take away and rearrange your chicken chop on your own plate, steal some tea lights from her stash, bingo, you got your instant DIY for cheats. If you really need flowers, a single 60 cents stalk from the market has the same effect as a $60 bouquet. Or even better, give her a foot rub, hold her so close and tell her how much you love her. Who needs flowers?

...Happy belated Anniversary dear, btw you owe me 13 stalks....one for each year we have been married...

The Rain

It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am..I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him.
I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.
While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.
The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to
the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health.
He told me that she had been there
for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease.
As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late.
He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.I was surprised, and asked him,
'And you still go every
morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?' He smiled as he
patted my hand and said,
She doesn't
know me, but I still know who she is.'
I had to hold back
tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought,
That is the kind of love I want in my life.'

True love is
neither physical, nor romantic.
True love is an acceptance
of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.
With all the jokes and fun that are in e-mails, sometimes there is one that comes along that has an important message. This one I thought I could share with you.
The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything they have.
I hope you share this with someone you
care about. I just did.
'Life isn't about
how to survive the storm,
But how to dance in the rain.'
We are all getting older
Tomorrow may be our turn
GOD BLESS!