The Winter Child’s Song

I put the star up on the tree and look around to see the glitter, golden and silver, clinging on to the black and white woollen geometric patterns on my sweater. Every year, some of the glitter falls off, and every year, I put some more on. I crouch against the back of the sofa and wriggle my fingers into the handle of my mug, curling them up against the warmth. The smell of coffee mixed with the cold and dry leaves – this is winter, the smell I want to trap in a jar and save up forever. Instead I have to make do with simple remembrance.

It is that time of the year, the one I wait for every remaining day. It is the time I feel the most hopeful, when naïve faith beats any tiny bit of cynicism I might have built up. All the days of locking myself up, heart breaking and making, all the shaking catches up with me, but for once, everything is okay. If only for a day. If only for a moment. It is okay.

And I know this is a skinny love, it ends too soon. So I remember it all – the tinsel on my shoulder, the bokeh lights on the ceiling and that smell, that smell that I am not allowed to keep to myself – and I remember them dearly, just to last another year.


If I could find a souvenir

Another year, done and dusted. But unlike last time, I remember this year starkly. Because, unlike last time, I want to remember this year.

This was the year when I felt like I was at the end of my rope, when I had almost given up. This was the year when I was scared shitless. When the number of exams I gave exceeded my toes and fingers put together by quite a margin. When I lost a friend and realised how insignificant everything else seemed. I let go of so many things because I just couldn’t goddamn take it anymore. And then I also realised that there are so many things I cannot let go…

This was the year when I promised myself I would make my new beginning worthwhile. And you know what? I did.

Because this was also the year I learnt that adapting is good. It is hard, but it can also make you fall in love with new places. I made new friends, to whom I owe my joyous self, because without them I could never love this new place as much.

This was the year I lost focus. This was the year I got it back (albeit at the very end of the year).

I willed myself to get back on track, to go for what I have been dreaming. Even though it’s difficult, even though the road may get long and winding.

I met a friend who is on the exact same road as I am; the year when, for the first time, I got company in this particular piece of mess.

This was also the year I met my Aunt (yes the lady8home is my aunt…talk about all kinds of amazing) and had crazy amounts of fun. And I met Rahul again (and had crazy amounts of fun, oh yes).

This was the year my country disappointed me. This was also the year when some people’s kick-ass-edness made me proud (because boy, can we protest).

So yes. 2012 was a mix of everything. It was my new beginning, one I was begging for. So if I could find a souvenir for it, I would hang it around my soul as a talisman.

Because this was the year I found myself back.