Apron Strings

Before she left, I spoke to her about the reality of going back to work.

Now that high school is over, Mom feels so light and free.  I am done with Mother-dom, Summie.  I'm thinking of going back to work, because, Mom is still young enough.

You mean you don't want to take care of me anymore?

No, it's not that.  Mom loves you, but it's time for you to get on with your own life.  You'll be off to college in the fall, and your whole life is ahead of you, for you…  You're ready, Summie.  If you aren't, then Mom has not done my job at all.

Do you mean it, Mom, when you said you don't care about what grades I get for the IB?

Yup.  Because you worked so hard, I know you tried your best, what will be, will be.

Does Daddy feel the same as you?

I'm not sure.  You better ask him when you see him again.

Are you going to teach again, Mom?

I'm not sure.  I am curious about teaching, but I am thinking of something else...

Oh, Mom, are you going to become Tycoon Tammy?

No, Mom isn't cut out for that kind of work.  Mom is more like, Typhoon Tammy!

(Husband-  Baby, you are really bold to have painted the walls, black!  <YES, Thank you, Baby!>

Builder-  So we are really going to mess the flat up?  <YES>

Realtor gasping-  What, a black wall!  <YES>

Spice-  I think you just like messing things up!  <YES>)

Hahahaha!  Typhoon Tammy!  That's a good one!  Mom, what time is my flight?

!!!???!!!

Mom, I wish I wasn't flying alone.  Mom, do I have to print my boarding pass?  Mom, how are we going to get to Heathrow?  Mom!  Will you miss me?

Work-in-progress/ her new bedroom

Going Black

My current obsession with black interiors didn't just occur recently.

I think it has to do with living in Europe for the last two years, wearing black daily, the somber start to my year, and Popo's passing.  It has to do with returning to dance in my leotard and tights (black and black, of course).  And it definitely has to do with my reacting against all the white that felt jarring and confrontational, when I first saw the (next) London flat.

SHUDDER!
photo credit-  Foxton's

Black soothes me.  Black is quiet, utilitarian and frank.  You don't flounder about in black.  Black is articulated speech.  It doesn't stutter.

And then on my last trip back to Singapore, Jon and I received a generous gift.

My MIL explained her gift- the artist did a series of black roses towards the end of his life.

When I look at the painting, I fully understand why he veered towards black, instead of the symphony of colours he is known for.  When time feels limited, black makes complete, sense.

Another influencing factor has been my extremely pared-down Spring-Summer wardrobe. 

That's all I'm wearing these days.

Because I have a tendency to decorate the way I dress, I am being very strict with colour (or the lack of) for my project.

Lastly, my other challenge is to create a more masculine, timeless sense of space.  I wondered about this, especially when I was resting in Spice's house.

I think because his house is sited in the midst of such spectacular surrounds, the architect deliberately worked with a muted palette

so that the man-made house would not compete with the majesty of nature around it;

that there would be much sensitivity expressed, in co-habitation.

I once said in a Business Times interview, that the homes we live in, reflect the inner landscape of the family, where we've been, where we're at.  I said that for me, it is hard to just stay in one home, as our lives are in continual flux. 

I still believe all that.  How special it is then, that at the end of one journey (high school!), I am now embarking on, The 15th Move.

The End

On the other side of this earth, in a city utterly foreign to me, lies a young man.

I think of him often.

One afternoon, I took him to the zoo.  While trying to strap him in his seat, he looked at me searchingly, then said- You look like Popo Kim.

When he was little, he had my husband's face.  I would look at him, and think, how handsome.

When I got married, he refused to walk down the aisle with the rings.  He sat down on the ground scowling.  Then he laid on his back, and kicked his legs in fury.

***
Late in the afternoon, she calls me in disbelief.
 I'm done!  It's over.  I'm not sure what to do next!  I feel I need to study, but it's over!  I'm even all packed!  I can't wait to see you again!  What are you doing now, Mom?

Aw, thank you so much, Mommy!

It's so comforting to have a home!

Packing makes me happy because it's all going into a home!!!

I can't wait to see the flat!

You are a super star!

Thank you for being on my journey with me!

***

We've come to the end.  The end of the IB exams, the end of high school, the end of.  At physio today, RM gets my elbow to bend past 120 degrees to 130 degrees.  To celebrate, I buy myself a new helmet.  I'm going to get back on Dumpling, soon, soon.

When I think of the young man, I sometimes think, how easily it could have been, her,  had I not- 

photo credit-  TY Choo

Her voice jolting-

Mom, sorry- when you have a moment can you email my house to confirm I'm leaving by train?  Because originally you were coming to get me…

(The End)

Wednesdays

I wish I could put into words, what it feels like to be dancing (again).

photo credit-  The Straits Times, Singapore

Wednesdays, Fridays, I take the Jubilee line north to West Hampstead. 

***

"Mom, you're a great dancer!"  She encourages me.

No, no, Mom is so out of shape for dance!

"It's ok!"  She declares.  "Dance is not just about being in shape, but more about what you are expressing and how it makes you feel!  Off to do math now!  I love you!"

***

Week 15, post-operation, living with the metallic arm, I am dancing for rehabilitation and to save myself.  I have a second therapist working collaboratively with my other London therapist RM, to address an atrophied shoulder. The objective is to get back on a horse in the summer, and I am going to need my strength back.

***

Something about the music.  It's like water, or the ocean, enveloping me.

photo credit-  The Esplanade Theatres by The Bay
choreography-  Tammy L Wong

Submerged, I hear longing, and pain, and joy, and hope, pulsating, pushing, pressing along.

photo credit-  The Arts House

  The movement phrases the teacher assigns, become like the alphabet.  How liberating, how delicious!  For I get to choose how I want to arrange the letters, form words, string sentences together.

The teacher says- demi pile, chasse on counts 1 and 2, arms and legs move to 2nd arabesque, hold on count 3.

But I do- demi-plie before count 1, so that on count 1, my demi pile has more depth, and then between count 1 and 2, I can extend the expression of the chasse, to arrive in 2nd arabesque on count 3.  And although I am abiding by the instruction of not moving anywhere else on count 3, the internal moving, my breathing pattern, the flow of my arms do not stop- my arms keep reaching, furthering that arabesque line, and my face, my eyes, follow, and then look beyond the arrived arm, because where I look, and what I see, is how I communicate to you, the audience, what the music is saying, what my heart holds, and oh, don't we all inevitably meet somewhere, in this one precious, funny, life?

photo credit-  Ethos Books
choreography-  Tammy L Wong

When 2 hours have passed, everyone else rushes out of the room.  I stay on to stretch and cool my limbs down- an old habit from a previous life.

Dancing makes me feel so calm and so happy.

Photo credit- University of California, Irvine
choreography-  Tammy L Wong

I wish I could put into words, what it feels like to be dancing, again.

New Project

                                                                Finally, a new project.

I'm calling it, The 15th Move.

Spice was in town.  He's got great taste.  I threw an idea at him-  Black walls.

No, no, He said.  Maybe grey.  

But I've done grey…

(In Singapore)

It's usually one of my go-to colours...

(In London)

If it's all black, it'll feel too much like a club, He reasoned.

His friend dining with us, added-  No, no, it feels, funeral!

But I am feeling in the mood for night.

I want to attempt something I've never tried before.

Curated carefully, I think black offers sophistication,

 and actually feels restful, calming.

The only tricky thing with black interiors is, sometimes, it's hard to spot Bruno…

He simply blends right in.

Mother's Day

Week 13, post-operation of the arm, the IB exam begins, and my daughter shouts out- Happy Mother's Day!!!

I love you, Mom.  Thank you for everything, she says.

She does this to me unknowingly- leaves my heart caught in my throat.  Every day I give thanks for a daughter who is growing into adulthood without the need to self-destruct by starving, cutting, piercing, inking, or creating an alter ego on Instagram/Youtube.

***

So I am lying in bed now just thinking about my day… I realised I made up an English word in my essay… I meant to say, "infused", but I wrote, "enfused"…HEHEHEHEHEH

Hahhaahaha, I replied.  You are indeed creative!  Love you and all the best for tomorrow!

***

Just finished… I am so tired!  It was harder than the past bio papers… But I really tried my best.

Great, I said.  Mom loves you and is proud of you.

***

I've never been interested in being a super-heroic mom, and there truly are some stunning mothers out there.  Life's too short, I'm too curious about many other things.  But, one day, God gave her to me.

And then, there was no stopping, me.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star

How I wonder what you are…

When the blazing sun is gone,

When he nothing shines upon

Then you show your little light

Twinkle, twinkle, all the night."

Dogs Who Brunch

Mom is currently too distracted by black interiors.

She's also really glad that I am home.

She keeps telling Dad, I am very expressive.

That if you listen carefully, I have things to say...

***

My friends and I are Dogs Who Brunch.  This is George.

Once not so long ago, George lived on the streets.  Aunty May saved him from a killing station in Hungary.

Today, we meet for brunch at Maze Grill, Gordan Ramsay's newly-opened restaurant.

Here's Darcy and Aunty May.

(Mom's unsure about the decor, but enjoyed her food.)

George!  Mom can see you doing that tip toe-ing trick! 

You need front row seats like me- perched forever on Mom's lap!

***

After brunch, we headed to North London.

Aunty May and George are signed up for a dog show!  Category?  "Diamonds in the Rough"!

Good luck, George!

Darcy and I settled down to watch.

Mom?  We need a better seat.

Thank you, Mom!

Mom?  Darcy needs to potty.

***

George did the best he could.

And I made a new friend.

*  Maze Grill, 11 Park Walk