When December rolled around, I made a promise to her and myself that I will turn things around for myself. That a new dawn will come and I will start anew. Be born again and rise from the ashes as I usually do when terrible things come my way. Of course unlike all the crappy things that have happened in my life, this last situation has to have been the worst. If I go into the gory details right now, you won’t believe me anyway.
I didn’t make a big list in my head or anything but somehow I knew that at midnight on the last day of this year, it would hit me. Almost like a list would appear from no where and it would be exactly what I needed to get through this year.
Things happened. Christmas came and went, so did my birthday. Before I knew it I was on a midnight ride to Tissamaharama. I woke up the next morning, had a drink and toasted to the last day of the year with a tiny tinge of anticipation about what midnight would hold for me.
We went on a boat ride. The wind was flying through my hair. I had my best bud with me and things seemed so nice. Off we went on what I would like to call a soul safari. Sadly I didn’t spot any leopard. But going back to Yala was like going back home. You see my Dad had this little holiday home by the lake in Weerawila and I would spend many of my vacations there. Inevitably it would lead to a weekly ride through the jungle on one of Daddy’s jeeps.
Going back into the area reminded me of exactly how much of my father’s daughter I am. My mum hated the outdoors and hunting and big game fishing and camping and everything my father was about. She tried her hardest to keep me away from it as well. But the older I grew, my passion for the outdoors became like an infectious disease. I craved for it more and more. Thank heavens for those few vacations I had in Trinco over the last few years or I would have died. There’s something about places in this country with minimal inhabitants that touch a chord in me. But Yala and Tissa and Weerawila are all about my childhood. About a time when things were simpler. A time I can appreciate far more now than I could then. I remember vacationing there with Mirantha. Of how we made our little base of operations in the back garden by the lake. Of how we screamed obscenities at the passers by as we drove to Katharagama. Yessiree… I am Daddy’s Girl.
Flash forward : The camp site was set up, the BBQ was on its way. Everyone was drinking up and smoking up and having a good time. Just when it got close to midnight I walked off and sat alone. Waiting. For that big moment to hit me. Midnight came and went. And I was still waiting. I could hear them calling out my name and looking for me. But I still waited. The moment just had to hit me. Some huge miraculous thing. And it didn’t. I sat there alone in the darkness and finally Marzipan found me, flung her arms around me and wished me a happy new year.
Everything else was a bit of a haze until the following morning. I opened my tent flap and witnessed the most beautiful sunrise. The world looked as though it had been washed in a golden glow. And then it hit me. The fact that nothing was supposed to hit me at all. I mean what was I expecting? A shooting star to fall on my head the previous night?
I came back to Colombo missing the jungle and the little vision quest that I thought I was on. It feels a little incomplete that a menhir didn’t crack my skull open. But in the process, I think I realized that the best thing I can do for myself is not to wait for those special moments and plan for them and expect something epic to happen.
I’m going to let 2009 happen to me because I know I can handle just about anything, come what may. What’s important is that I am stronger than anyone has ever given me credit for. Than even I have.
What’s important is that I’ll be ok.
The Missing Sandwich 