Until you come back

This afternoon, I cut my thumb on one of the metal pegs that held the wooden backing of the picture frame that I was filling with a photo. I was preparing my going-away present for Joy, who is leaving Cambodia in a week for work in Mongolia. I didn’t notice the cut until I felt a slickness as I was pressing the photo into the frame. When I lifted my thumb from the photo, it was smeared with my bloody thumbprint. It wasn’t a complete print; more like a smudge actually. It glared against the whiteness of the photo paper, like a red exclamation point. I looked in front and noted that the smudge wasn’t noticeable at all. I was glad.

Lou’s sms yesterday, inviting me to the despedida party for Joy and asking me to bring something that represents how she had touched my life, sent me to a mild state of panic. I couldn’t think of anything to bring, although I’d been working on my present for more than a week already. I’ve only known her for a short time, as compared to the other people in our group.

So I thought hard and realized a few things in the process.

I met Joy because of Lou. When I came to Cambodia on April 19, 2004, Ms Ruthy, my boss who knew Lou, advised me to get in touch with her. When I called Lou, she offered to take me out to dinner. Lou and Joy picked me up from the house of my Cambodian friend, where I’d been staying. It was Friday, May 14, 2004, around 7PM. They brought me to Bamboo House, the now-closed Filipino restaurant. While having dinner, I was introduced to Jojo and Verse–who arrived shortly after our food was served. They seemed to be a happy and agreeable group.

After dinner,  they agreed to go to a hotel for some after-dinner drinks and coffee. On the way to the hotel we passed by Phsar Thmey (literally, New Market but it’s official name is Central Market), when Joy told me that the market was built on reclaimed marshland. And that each year, the building slowly sinks into the land that gets soft during the rainy season. This struck me hard and until now I don’t clearly know the reason why. Joy’s story made so much an impression to me that I wrote a poem about it months later. I dedicated this poem (called Phnom Penh is Sinking) to Lou and her. I posted this poem in my poetry blog.

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