My favourite moments about you.
Over the past ten years the list would be bottomless, but I would try a few.
One time you were ranting profusely getting smart-mouthed and all about someone you did not particularly like, for reasons you did not particularly reveal, and giving her a hard time for claiming to be graduating from the same university you attended. I couldn’t quite figure whether you were insecure about the whole episode or simply annoyed being associated to her.
Of course, the next day you found out that there was a technical glitch about the university part and that she had never made such claim about attending the same university. So all those energy you channeled on ranting about her seemed wasted.
But instead of keeping quiet pretending that nothing had happened, you had a big laugh about it. You owned up all your nonsensical talk earlier and I supposed you paint your embarrassment a little colourful and talkative than usual.
I found that adorable.
I remembered when I first saw you in traditional Cambodian dress trying to blend in with the locals, to be adorable too. You made the effort. Whether it actually worked, I had no idea. But you thought it did somehow, judging by how the locals reacted to you.
And there was this one time when you were in Netherlands. You were trying to explain a local joke about Santa Claus, the Dutch version maybe, you went at length. But the story was lost on me. I did not get the punch line. You got a bit upset because you had rehearsed that couple of times. I was forced to blame it on our different ways of thinking.
But to this day, I still could not find it funny.
I remembered the way you look riding your rented bicycle in Burma very early in the morning. I saw you smiled as sunbeam warmed up your soft features in the early hours.
And at another time when you witnessed an accident at our local traffic. How you and your friends waited in the thunderstorm holding an umbrella over the victim, you were drenched and you cursed why the local ambulance would took so long to arrive. You were concerned how long the victim had to put up with the pain.
I think you were only 23 then.
Owning up mistake in public took a lot of courage. Something I had to admit, not easy to do. I would have turned the other cheek and moved on. It was easy for me to conclude it was not significant to prolong the matter further. Of course, I wouldn’t have been unnecessarily upset over simple things like Alma Matter or such. It doesn’t matter which school or university, some billionaires never even made it to graduation day.
And I wouldn’t make any conscious effort to blend into locals. Many times I would not think I stood out very much and sometimes I could easily be mistaken as locals in other Asian countries.
Local jokes are totally lost on me. I admit. Point blank.
It could even be about me, for all I care. I would have no idea.
And that Samaritan act of yours. Something that I could only applaud too.
Too often, I trained myself not to stop and stare. I was driving home once on a cold dark highway very late at night, a Jeep about 20 metres before me made a sudden turned and tumbled couple of times to the road side. I drove on and not stopping because I thought it would be too dangerous to hit emergency break at that time as it would create further trail of accidents.
I told myself somebody would stop. And care.
Somebody like you.
My conscience, you asked. You liyana, are my conscience.
If there was a game we could play being the most likable, I think you would win with both hands down. In almost flat seconds.
Even to the ominous flaws you thought you had.
You would still win.
At least, my silly little heart.