Past. Present. Future.

When the morning started out like that, I should have known it'd be a foretelling of the rest of the day to come.

Not too long after the bell let out its first toll for the day, a colleague popped by and, i don't know how and why, but the topic of dicussion drifted... work plans... successor... free-spirited-ness... stability... reasons for staying on red dot... This colleague has always been rational, sharp and direct. Today, he verbalized issues that I tucked inside of me. He compelled me, in a non-intruding manner, to confront my situation, and to admit that something is not quite aligned nor beneficial in the long run. And he is not apologetic about the entire discussion. I guess this sets him apart from the rest of the equally, if not more, concerned good pals that I have. While the rest respect my stubborness to indulge in family and work, and gave me the space to shy into, he minced no words pre-empting what might happen if papa is no longer around. He is an acute observer and reader indeed.

For a long while after the chat, I felt disturbed (and I actually still am). It is a smorgasbord of emotions - exposed, pain, not-in-control, defeated, and lost. For a while, I really don't know why I am here, and why I am doing what I am doing. It is really not his fault. The chat was spontaneous, and we definitely didn't plan to go into anything heavy so early in the day. It is me. I have been living behind a shield ever since. But that is only because I cannot bear to force myself to think of what I'd be, where I'd go, what I'd do without the false security of work and the true but non-eternal existence of loved kins. Life is ironically just a journey towards death.

Some years ago when I was still fresh-faced in university, I put in my room one poster that I really liked - 'Even if the world is coming to an end tomorrow, I will still plant my apple tree'. Then, I felt inspired, loved, confident and at peace. Now, I think, if tomorrow, the world is indeed coming to an end, I'd clean up the house one final time, sit at the sofa, and wait for the bell to toll its last.

And being the poor story-teller I am, I had to bore all of you with my rumblings before I remembered I had to tell you about the rest of the day to come. I said it was a foretelling - The father of a gd pal at work had a stroke in the brain early this afternoon. Like mama's. But he is lucky, there is no bleeding, so no immediate danger. Unlike mama's. The next couple of days will be crucial, chances of a second one coming are high. Hang in there uncle, unless you are damn sure you no longer want to plant apple trees.