I just opened my journal, and out of 140 pages to choose from, randomly, this is what I read. Here is some meaning, I think. I can't forget, never will.
Friday August 3:
"...The best moment, perhaps of the summer, came from my personal exhaustion this morning. I was not on my game. My dear Phalla was feeling sick today, headache, and dozing on her bed. I got up from my seat by Malis and lay on Phalla's small bed. Immediately and without a single word, Phalla wrapped her arm across my stomach and pulled me close. She could feel my diaphragm and I could feel her fresh soft breath on my cheek--a centimeter from her mouth. We lay there, holding hands, cuddling, dozing, breathing together for half an hour. That time was love.
I said goodye to Svay Phalla as she took those life-giving medicines that keep making her stronger. Told her I didn't want to leave Kampuchea.
Srey Pao invited me in her room to her bed. I have barely spent time with her, but when I told her I was leaving, she burst into tears and embraced me with her stick arms. We kissed each other and exchanged 'I'll miss you.' 'I love you.'
I'm amazed that my brief presence meant something to her.
Phalla was lying by the TV when I said goodbye. I hugged her and told her I loved her. I was--and am--sad. I will miss my dear friend, my sister. But Phalla put on a good face, though I got the feeling she felt as I did. She said she loved me. But when I started to say 'thank you' (for her presence and companionship), as if to stop me from being too sentimental, she simply said 'sok sapbaay' (be happy). Kept her gaze (which goes beyond her eyes) on the ceiling as I walked away. That woman defines courage to me."
No comments:
Post a Comment