The Most Wonderful Night of My Life, dedicated to my love.

“Tell me more about the most _______ time of your life.”

People are sometimes asked to recall things like that. ‘Amazing’, ‘memorable’, and then there’s ‘wonderful’—all of which bring different emotions to me. What is most memorable (in a positive manner) may not be the most wonderful, yet the most wonderful is part of your most treasured, memorable recollections. On the most wonderful night of my 28 years of life, there was hesitation, trepidation, and excitement over a spur of spontaneity of a tiny wrong-doing; I was loved and loved.

It was my last night in Bordeaux. I do not remember the name of the restaurant I was brought to, but I remember looking into a pair of searching, brown, light green eyes that betrayed traces of anxiety.

I remember being curious and surprised at the candle-lit food heater on my right at our table of two, and the deep metal bowl that contained our lovely fries. I remember having duck, simply because I like duck meat, and your insistence and confidence that the sauce served at this restaurant is to-die-for.

“You like it? Are you happy, my hime?” you asked earnestly.

“Yes,” I replied happily.

Some time later, a long table a distance from us to my right burst into claps and a birthday song. I saw a cake with sparklers being brought to the table. “I’ve always wanted sparklers on my cake.”

“Did you have a good time on your birthday, my hime?”

“It was okay…well it was nice. I went out with my friend for dinner at a nice restaurant.”

“I’d wanted you to have a big party, my hime.” You looked downcast, as if my recent uneventful birthday was upsetting to you. My sweet, gentle man.

We exited into the cold, and headed out to walk by the waters you love beneath the dark sky that was gently releasing raindrops. The buildings opposite were lights of yellow, and those yellow lights were also a faint watery mirage over the black waters. A small boat cruised silently by. You bluffed me that it was carrying drugs. I wanted to take pictures of us there, but you refused stubbornly. I posed badly for solo shots.  We hurried to the venue you wished to take me, urged on by the drizzle. But wait, we caught sight of a park sitting just right opposite. We’d spoken a few times about going to the parks together but we couldn’t do it. You said, let’s go in there.  I was in disbelief. What? Won’t it be locked? My pants aren’t suitable for climbing. You replied, no, it’s okay. I can carry you. You just have to jump up and I’ll carry you.

I had no idea how that was going to pan out; I was worried but excited. You were being spontaneous again. This is the spot Naim and I sometimes spent time at. We’d come here at night, and just sit in there and talk you know? We’d sit at the swings, and look up at the sky and talk.

We crossed the road, and you climbed over the short gate deftly. I wished I was wearing jeans then.

“Hime, come, quick, before anyone sees us.”


You reached out over the gate with two hands open. “Just jump up, I’ll catch you.” In a leap of faith, also fearing I’d tear my bottoms, I put my left hand around your neck and jumped. You caught me and brought me over the gate.

We laid down side by side on the round swing and you coaxed it gently into motion. Up, down. Up, down. I looked up at the sky that showed me no stars. I reached out into the oblivion with my hands, not sure what I was reaching for but perhaps it was to grasp a feel of eternity in the quietness and contentment—an eternity where time slowed down, and the world encased us in a frozen frame that held just two of us and the sound of our breaths. Raindrops fell more insistingly and heavily, protesting against the notion of eternity.

“Come, let’s go. I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep if I lie down longer,” you said.

We walked towards another gate in front. A car turned in. We averted our gazes quickly and turned our backs towards the road.

“We have to be fast so that people don’t see us. Let’s go.”

The same way we came in, you brought me out. I landed on the footpath feeling exhilarated, as if

We just created our own drama scene!  I exclaimed gleefully in disbelief. You laughed and agreed.

You offered your arm to me and we continued on our little journey in the rain.


I fell in love with this song

I was reading Fight with Me by Kristen Proby over the weekend. The female lead in this song loves this song. So I looked it up on YouTube and I liked it at hearing the first sentence, the first tune. It tugged at my heartstrings so I booted up my laptop to record this down.

It is a beautiful song that breaks my heart. That broke my heart at first tune. And I am listening over to it, over and over again, despite memories it drags up. The lyrics remind me of you. It’s a song I think you’d like too.

How old is your soul?

The funniest thing is I had to give up.

We had to give up.