disturbed

I suddenly woke up at a little after two in the morning. On the ground was a fresh sprinkling of snow, yellow in the glow of the street lamps. I tried reaching mum numerous times in the course of the evening, yet she could not be found. I tried again, and much to my relief she was home.

She went to get a massage, she said, after complaining of severe pains in her arm that made her feel so restless and uncomfortable. The latest treatment left her feeling tired and drained, I could hear it in her voice. More so than previous treatments, I'm not sure.

I went back to sleep, but it was a restless night of flipping and turning, and I could swear I felt sores and discomfort in my arm for no apparent reason.

Test

This will be the first time Im publishing through my new iPhone. Kind of difficult to type on such a small keyboard, but I'll have to get used to it!!!

Talk

Lying in bed last night, we discussed about travel plans, namely the possibility to go see my boyfriend's family when he visits them in a couple of weeks time. As much as I really would like to visit him in the surroundings of his upbringing, and to get to know his parents better, I am somehow so weary of travelling. Just thinking of booking tickets, of packing my bags and being away from home for even just a few days or so makes me feel tired... I was even thinking of planning surprise visit and just show up at his doorstep one day. But that seems like an improbably fantasy...



There was a time when I could just pack my bags and be on my way to the next adventure the next morning. There was a time when travelling, flying, exploring the world filled with such enthusiasm and joy. But the back and forth between here and home (in Taiwan), and the ever-constant worry about mum's wellbeing, has really sapped the enthusiasm and joy of travelling from me. And whenever I hear my boyfriend speak of how he would like to go here or there, and do this or that with me, I find it hard to share in the enthusiasm and excitement, which makes me feel bad towards him.



I think part of the reason is because I really am not sure how long I have till the next time I pack my bags to go home and be with mum. With her unstable health condition, and the possibility of a major surgery looming, I could only just have weeks, or at most a month or two before I am on my way again, before I am separated from the comforts and familiarities of my own home indefinitely. That prospect scares me, disturbs my subconsciousness at night when I sleep, however much I try to tell myself not to think or worry too much about the future.