For Farrah...

I cannot really remember the exact details of the moment I met her, but if there is one thing that I am all too sure is that, as long as my memory serves me well, whether I am a slave in heaven or a prince in hell, I would always remember.

She sent a couple of things then: durian candy, a nature calendar from Toyota, a booklet on kind and soft things and one of the novels that made an great impact in my life, To Kill a Mockingbird. She also sent me a snapshot of her so that we might have an idea that we both indeed were a) human and b) existing. I had to take her word that it was indeed her who was in the photograph, considering I can only barely make out outlines of her female form, and the first thing I thought when I saw that picture was that it was either in the ritual of “hello” or “goodbye”.

Along the way, we traded stories of our lives, of the tragedies that befell us, the choices right and wrong, sweet and bittersweet that are always a part and parcel of human life.

But because our cities were not mere neighbors, we went the way as most people who are distant: we let the winds between the distance carry our voices to who knows where while in separate and distant lives we struggled and strived.

But everything is in orbit, planets, stars and constellations. And the path that diverged and went on separate and opposite directions could only meet again in a world that is round.

I may not remember the exact moment, but I do have an idea of how the years have been to both of us. It would be so easy to tag it with labels such as “cruel”, “sad”, or “interesting.” But one thing that I know is that we have strived and we are still alive. And in this world that is a lot of things, being alive is one very good thing.

There is magic in knowing people: that even as they are absent in sight and sound, they still remain, faint but palpable, yet nevertheless there, waiting for the emptying cup to be filled again before the ritual of separation is held again.

Even saying thank you seems to be so small for how you have remained there. Still, I thank you.

I only hope that my friendship and love is worthy enough to be the gift not only this year, but for all the other years that are still to come.

In the high ideals of “Nindotism”, Happy Birthday Farrah!