So I read a story about a mother and a
daughter bidding each other farewell at the airport, wishing each other “enough”.
My family tradition (which started by my father during the days when I was
having my public exam) is a bit different, instead of wishing us enough, my
parents wish us “good luck”. Well, indeed, I think it is common in Thailand,
too, saying “chok dee ka/krap” everytime you say goodbye.
I have a very big family, but it also feels
very small because most of our relatives are scattered around the world.
Growing up, life has mostly been about my parents and siblings. The one place I
often go to is the airport, bidding farewells to people I love, picking them
up, bidding farewells again. In the first half of my lived life I always traveled with my family, these years I travel alone a lot. It is kind of romantic taking
a big yellow suitcase to work in the morning and rushing to the airport in the
evening, sometimes it feels like I am merely going from one side of Hong Kong
to the other side (which I do everyday.)
Living this life now is like living my old
life all over again. When I was little I listened to my parents speaking in their
languages with people from their countries, trying to figure out what they were
talking about. Thai and Teochew are easy to pick up, but Urdu and Punjabi are difficult. With
long years of rehearsing, the idea of foreign languages is not so foreign, even
when I am in a room filled with unknown sounds and syntax it is still somehow so much like
childhood.
But farewells are something you don’t get
used to, everytime I bid someone goodbye I deem it as the last time. I think
wishing someone “good luck” is rather wise, because, afterall and first of all
we are lucky to survive, secondly and last but not least, we are lucky to see
those we love, and love those we see. You never know if the person you bid farewell to will still be there when you return, and you know not whether the love will still be there either. (The love from family is always there though. :) )
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