Wednesday

As I write this, I can hear thunder rumbling in background accompanied by a few lightening flashes. I love the sound of a storm. For me, there's nothing quite like an amazing thunderstorm that assaults all your senses and makes you realise how insignificant we really are, compared to Mother Nature. It tried to rain today too, but alas, no - just a few drops the size of small plates - that's exaggerating slightly, but they were big. It must be too dry, but it doesn't feel it. The heat is stifling, even the locals are complaining about how hot it is. And the rain just doesn't come. We need it to wash away the dirt and the heat and for us, to clear the drain that runs outside our house. But I know that when it comes, oh the humidity... sweat, sweat and more sweat. However, though storms threaten, it doesn't rain much, which is really quite odd for Malaysia - odd but not unheard of, so don't even think this is about global warming - I hear there's no such thing.

In other Wednesday matters, my darling little student, Feng Ying, said her name for the second time today. It was so soft and quick, I almost missed it, but it was definitely there. She's so cute, this little girl. And we've bonded. In her lovely moments (and she has quite a few 'un-lovely' ones as well), she'll come and sit on my lap facing me, leaning against my chest in a bear hug. When we play the game called "come here" she smiles and looks me right in the eye and jumps into my arms so I can twirl her around as a reward for answering to her name. Nowadays, she sits still for a time, she knows how to use glue (as opposed to smearing it all over her hands) and she's learning to use scissors. She's learned to ask for things by reading the words and symbols for "I want" and can ask for her biscuit and a toy car that she likes to play with. There are so many things she's doing now, that she wasn't doing a year ago. And it's not just me. She goes to 2 other early intervention programs - 1 in Malacca and the other was started by her Aunty, just for her. But it's so great to see her progress, little by little.

Spoke with mum today. Dad's recovering. The doctors removed his kidney, along with a tumour the size of a golf ball. Sounds a bit scary, doesn't it? But he's OK. Mum's being strong. She's good like that. Give her a crisis or something and she's the first one to step up to the plate. She doesn't give herself enough credit. Every day for her is physically painful from the arthritis that she suffers from, yet she still goes on. I remember when we first became aware that she even had arthritis - I felt so helpless, wishing for her that it would go away. But it never did and still hasn't. My mum and I are peas in a pod, so much so, that sometimes I actually feel like I am her. I look at my hands or my legs, and see my mum's hands or legs there, on my body. I know how she's feeling, I can finish her sentences - I just know her. And I know that she's worried about Dad, but she won't show it to him. She'll be thinking about it though, all while she's travelling up and down to see him (one hour each way). I miss her, I wish I was there to help her through this, but I'm not. One of my best recent memories of her was a few years ago when I returned to Melbourne, unbeknownst to her. When I arrived, she was in the street, walking the dog or something and had seen the car pull up. And she ran to greet me - ran people. For her, that's not an easy feat, but she did it. Everything in that moment, told me how much I mean to her and how much she misses me. I'm lucky to have her.

Now to sleep. Tomorrow is another day. I will ring Dad and cheer him up. There's housework and kids to take care of, lunch and dinner to make, students to teach. Life goes on.

G'night.