'09

Dear readers,

need more be said? it is a new year - one, we hope, of hope and comfort, and the fewer tears shed the better. But we know too that this is not always possible, and we look forward to the days to come. 

In the blink of an eye -

The Straight Times Editor

I Remember

I remember, very clearly – on the last night of the year when I was to leave my Primary school years behind forever – me pleading with my mother to let me play ‘catching’ for one last time before I headed into the great beyond that is Secondary school life and the ‘young-adulthood’ that came with it.

We were in church, as usual, on New Years’ Eve, for the annual Prayer and Praise service – a traditional and beloved reflect and review of sorts for the church. My staunch request came just after the service, before we headed off to watch fireworks at East Coast Park. And play we did, perspiring out the worries and apprehension surrounding the coming year while pounding the familiar grounds of the church carpark, that multi-purpose space that we’d grown up in.

It struck me with a strange jolt of déjà-vu, as my feet skipped lightly across the soft turf of Keppel Island last night – once again, the 31^st – that I was playing ‘catching’ once again, that childhood game that  we thought we left behind alongside our Childrens’ Day celebrations. Just minutes after clambering off our cars we found ourselves running with the steady land breeze as the lights of the St

ar Cruise Virgo winked in the harbor beyond.

Then, with the electric contact of skin on skin as the catchers tapped their prey, and the squeals of the runners as they were cornered by the sea, we relived our memories of days gone by – memories of Chinese workbooks, presumptuous crushes and strictly half-day school hours, as well as memories of friends lost and found, lies told and regretted, and tears shed and dried. It was impossible not to reminisce, catching our breaths and drinking in the salty moonlight that shimmered on the water. And it was impossible not to know, as we shot each other wary glances and asked who the catcher was, that the other person too was sprinting down memory lane.

At the stroke of midnight, the others crowded together to watch fireworks and take photos, while I flopped down on the springy grass and watched the Virgo set sail – that behemoth of a floating hotel glimmering like a ruby in the night. Some moments were decidedly better spent alone: not making resolutions or setting long-distance goals, but simply condensing the rest of my childhood memories into the last few seconds of sweetness – then thinking, just thinking, as the sparks from the Marina cascaded from the air.

It had been an exhilarating year, but a year that had passed way too fast, leaving barely enough time to rewind before the onslaught of a new term. Yet it had also been a fruitful year – meeting people, learning new things, and growing closer to the many who mean so much to me. The unsolved regrets of the past twelve months would diffuse in due time, but the jewels gained would, I hope, continue to shine.

Somewhere in the background, the countdown faded amidst a clattering of voices; a few someones called my name, and I awoke from my reverie.

Slipping dusty memories back into my pocket, I headed back across the grass. 

Royal Tasmanian Botanical Gardens, dec'08