'Cause Pigs can Fly

This morning, I tweeted something about two thoughts that have been making me feel all sorts of things lately. One is the fact that Aiya seems to have decided to live abroad, which is fine, but here’s the thing. Children aren’t obligated to take care of their parents. I know this. However, we didn’t grow up in a family where our parents are chucked in a retirement/elders’ home (not that there’s anything wrong with this, but it just isn’t what our family does). I don’t want this for my parents – unless, of course, they choose it for themselves. So with Aiya gone, and my parents having no other children, their care falls on me. Now I don’t mind it, but I’m rather useless and so in the case of an emergency, I feel like I will be of little use to them. I’m worried that I won’t be a good enough daughter, that I won’t be able to take care of them the way they should be. And I’m kind of scared about having to take care of them by myself. Now, people can point out and say that my parents

I’ve been thinking a lot about the survival of friendships and why some last longer than others. Friendships sometimes feel stifling to me, like the other’s presence shrinks your lungs, while at other times, friendships feel like all the good things: freedom, love, joy, kindness, effortlessness. That kind of friendship, the easy kind, is something I have been blessed to have in life. Remember that moment in Fleabag, when the Hot Priest talks about how scary love is, making it something we don’t want to do alone? Well, love is scary, but I’d also like to point this out: “The world as we know it mostly focuses on how hard love is – all suffering and sacrifice and so on – but no one really speaks about how easy love is when you get it right. Because love is easy when you get it right, when you are given it right.” This was how the ‘Slices of Life by Marianne David’ column began in The Daily Morning last month, and this is something Marianne and I had spoken about before the column mad

 And so I turned 30.   A few years ago, I was convinced I wouldn’t make it to 30. It didn’t seem like I was destined to live a long life. And I didn’t want to. I have never really thought about my future. I never thought about life ten, fifteen or twenty years from now. I didn’t think about life post retirement. I never planned around old age, like some people seem to do. The closer I got to my 30 th birthday, the more I realised that I was likely to make it to 40. It still felt far away, but it also felt like I would live to see another decade. Anyway, here I am, living the first day of my 30s. Two people asked me this morning if it feels any different. Leaving my 20s, and welcoming my 30s. And I said it doesn’t. There’s no magical element to birthdays. You are still the same person, with the same problems or concerns and the same life. And while I do have those odd moments of realising that I am getting older, I’m actually looking forward to my 30s. I feel like life is getti