Fortress

 

FORTRESS

Musings on growing up, losing childhood innocence, and on embracing life through all its frailties and uncertainties.  A lyrical essay inspired by stories from my friends who have found peace and happiness in their senior years despite failed relationships.

On a weekend trip to Johore Bahru, Annie and I walked along the paths of our remembered footprints, looking for the private spaces and virgin colours of our playful youth.  They have vanished, but the images were lucid, warm – the orange field we crossed to school (now underlying garish hostel blocks), where we played hopscotch till the laterite matched the hues of sundown; our bushy sanctuary (swallowed by brick houses standing back to back), where we picked yellow and purple “berries”, stepping on forget-me-nots and blue morning glories.

Days were long, the future unfathomable.  We promised to be friends forever, knowing each other only by our nicknames. 

I can still taste the bitter sweet “berries”

Hear our voices singing love songs on the cherry tree

Feigning broken hearts in glee

We talked about our childhood sweethearts, our families; they say your first love is the purest, the real one – to last forever.  Can we ever know what is real?

The radio was playing our old song “A Blossom Fell” by Nat King Cole:

            A blossom fell from a tree

It settled softly on the lips you turned to me

The gypsies say and I know why

A falling blossom only touches lips that lie

We listened in silence, adrift in our own new realities, hovering over childhood memories.

I still hear the gypsy, King’s sweltering tone, lyrics throbbing in my brain…

We switched off the radio, sang “The Greatest Love of All” all the way home…

Maybe lies are part of reality in adulthood, but they don’t shatter the fortress of love

 I have built around my new private space.     

 

Revisiting my hometown reminds me to relish each moment of my life as I did in my childhood, so as to continue loving myself, loving life.  Annie is a sentient link to my childhood reality, much of which has been blotted out by modernity that is contrasted with the beautiful colours of nature in my “private spaces.”

The old song on the radio strikes a new chord with me, perhaps Annie too, as people we trusted had hurt us by their lies. We did not talk about it as we now have our own realities in our adult life.

Whatever breeds the lies – innocence, naivety, ignorance -  is inconsequential as what define our lives are not the lies we have let in, but the happy memories we have made, the souls that have touched us, people we cherish and protect, and above all, the love and thankfulness in our hearts; they transcend all fears and sorrows.    

Nevertheless, as I share stories with the unsung heroes in my childhood fraternity, I’m reminded by the quote (author uncited) I chanced upon on my mobile phone: “Not all wounds are so obvious. Enter gently into the lives of others.”