Of held back tears, great tasting roti prata and the person that makes it all worthwhile

This Sunday started like any other Sunday, just that the clock was ticking down to her flight back to HCMC. Saturday turned out to be more mentally taxing than we both thought, that shortly after washing up, it was all snores (ok, it’s me snoring and her just breathing normally) until the alarm clock rang and the sunlight seeped into the room.

After our morning ablutions, we got in the car and were on our way to the East side of Singapore, when a sudden craving for roti prata hit. Google found us a place with a rating of 4.6/5 stars (wow) and (sort of) on the way to Tampines, though we had to make rather large detour to Onan Street from Bartley Flyover. It was a race against the clock too, because the prata stall was slated to close at 1330, and it was already 1245 when we changed our destination on Google maps. Much to our comfort, Google announced that “traffic is as usual on your way to your destination. You will arrive at 1258.” Hallelujah, as we pulled up to that small little coffee shop, another car left the parking lot. We parked the car, and sort of skipped our way to the coffee shop. We were hungry, and excited by the smell of that sweet fragrant prata. We ordered our prata, sparkling ribena and kopi in tow. Brunch was served. I wasn’t quite sure if the prata was as good as I remembered it tasted. It’s really really good. Only the Transit Road Roti Canai (which for folks living outside of SEA, prata and canai are the exact same thing; Malaysians call it Canai, Singaporeans call it Prata) tasted as good. Those flour creations were mildly sweet, fragrant to the n-th degree, and just the right balance of crispy and chewy. The fish curry was divine. Combining the prata with the curry and a sprinkle of white sugar, was the finishing flourish.

Pei and I have had meals when we didn’t talk much, because of tiredness or stress days, but that’s usually during dinners and after a long day at work. Our brunches are usually quite noisy. But this morning it was oddly quiet. We rarely lifted our heads from our plates. Just bite after bite of delicious prata. The neighbourhood was quiet, despite being so near the Ramadan Geylang Serai roadside markets. The weather was cool, with imminent showers, but not too humid because we were near to coast.

We felt this sense of serenity and calm, of satiation and happiness. Her by my side, spending that moment together. In retrospect, I’d call it bliss. It’s when someone understands so intimately all the elements of making someone happy, and sharing said moment with all the stars aligning (the food, the environment, the company). We both enjoy a good tasting bite, she knows I prefer quietness to noisy settings, I know she much prefers cooler temperatures, and we both like lower humidity levels. Stars perfectly aligned. Perfect brunch.

The rest of the afternoon was running errands, buying stuff to bring back to HCMC. We finally got to the airport, and then reality started to sink in. She’s flying off again, and it would be at least two weeks before I got to see her. I found myself unconsciously stroking the back of her hand with my thumb as our fingers intertwined and strolled down the halls of Changi Airport. I didn’t want her to go, as much as I knew that she had to. Reminded me a lot of when I flew back to Singapore for the holidays and leaving for London again. Being on this side of the immigration gates is much harder somehow. I gestured to her: “Call me,” as she passed through the gantry and she nodded in response. We spoke briefly as she was about to take off. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes on both occasions, but I fought them back. Now, I’m typing this memory in my bedroom, I can’t contain it anymore. I find tears streaming down my face.

I miss her, although I know I’ll see her very soon, it’s still difficult. On the way home, I was driving on reserve fuel, but instead of praying that I’ll get home safely, I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for Pei. I know that I’ve met the perfect one for me. She’s given me so much, encouraged me to be a better man, supported me during my times of struggle, soothed my tired and angry nerves, cared and dressed my wounds when I hit the deck… It is not laughs that define a couple, but the struggles that they go through together. I thank God for her. And God knows how often I’ve prayed. And I give thanks for bringing her safely back to her hotel room in HCMC.

Everyone draws strength from different places. I know that I’m at my strongest when I have the support of my family, those closest to me. In London, I had the family of 1–126 Cromwell Road to thank, for pulling the weight when I most needed it. Back at home, although my family don’t pull in the direction that I wish for them to, they still do pull the weight. Pei has been pulling a lot of them weight for a long while now. She bears the burden with joy. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me, and the way she pulls me close to her and collapses in my embrace. I’m deeply thankful for the people around me. So this post is dedicated to her. I pray for more days like this. I pray for stronger relationships between us. I pray for blessings that flow like a river that brings life.

Soft smiles, contented hearts, and warm fuzzy feels. You’ll be back in my arms soon, Pei. I promise.