Drifting

Sometimes I'm troubled by thoughts of her. She hasn't been back, physically yes but not in spirit. She said it was a mistake, I did not try to correct her. She said things will only get more complicated, and I did not disagree. She said we're better off like what we were before, before that Sunday.

She hasn't called as often either, last time it was last week to ask me how Mama was doing. Once in a fortnight is a far cry from the daily calls she would make just to share a story or two. These days she would just tell me that she's too busy and tired to talk that much. I know it's an excuse. I told her Mama was doing great, recuperating well. She said she might drop by Bangsar to see her one of these days, and I said Mama would love that. I know damn well it's an excuse because Mama calls her more than she calls me.

Mama loves Reen like her own daughter, sometimes I think she loves her more than me. It's a fact I've grown to accept. She even told Reen to call her Mama instead of Auntie, for Pete's sakes.

But I digress. Yes, I miss her terribly. These days she would still answer whenever I call, but something is missing in her voice. There always was a sparkling, youthful zest in her sweet voice but now the note is a little flat. Not noticeable unless you've been listening to it almost every day for the past 9 years. Something sounded off tune, like an old piano in need of a little tweaking. Sometimes I find her distant, even through the phone I can feel the growing distance. It's like she boarded a boat that day and is slowly floating away, pulled ever so slowly by the soft waves that's lapping at the sides. And no matter how hard I try, my rope never quite got to her. So she keeps drifting.

I miss you, don't drift too far.

Wrote this for my other blog, which serves as my writing pad for stories. 4 parts and I lost the plot. Muse, where art thou?