Audrey came to visit from Boston this weekend. She's currently doing an elective at Massachusetts General Hospital. From what I hear, it's exceedingly challenging, but we know she'll rise up to the challenge, God-willing, and God-sustained.
She arrived on Friday night, and we went out to Cafe Lalo for some good ol' dessert and coffee. The next day, after a rather disappointing brunch at Popover Cafe, I headed back home to get some work done, while she went out shopping and roaming the gridded streets of New York with Idina, her friend from way back (who's an A*STAR scholar doing her PhD in Microbiology at Yale and was in town as well) -- MGS days. That night we went to East Village for a great sushi meal (which turned out to be Aud's treat -- Yay Audrey!) and tiny but spectacular dessert at Chikalicious. I think Chikalicious deserves a mention. We paid $12 for a three-course dessert. First course was something called an "amuse" (not sure whether prounounced Ah-Moo-Seh or as per normal) -- a tiny dollop of sorbet drenched in some orange sweet liquid. Next I had an earl-grey genoise cake (yeah, beats me too) which measured one-inch-by-one-inch, accompanied by a small dollop of chocolate ice cream and two wedges of orange. The last course was something they called "Petit Fours" -- it was petite all right, but there were only three pieces. Should have been called Tres Petit Trois. Anyway -- it was one marshmallow with coconut pieces, one star-anise chocolate truffle (yeah try to imagine) and one pecan cookie. Hmm. It was quite strange, but thoroughly enjoyable. I figure this is the kind of stuff that New Yorkers can afford -- both in terms of luxury and expense.
Then we walked to Greenwich Village to get cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery. Found Natalie along the way, and the four of us went to Grey Dog Cafe for some late-night cider (in the US, this is just warm apple juice -- not alcoholic at all).
On the way home from church today, Audrey mentioned something that struck me. She said that in Cambridge she didn't feel like she had the luxury of having friends who asked after her, who actively sought to find out how she was doing. It seemed as if every term we were all expected to breeze through supervisions and lectures and labs, getting everything sorted out well. We were expected to cook our meals well, invite people to dinner, get invited to dinner. And there was just no time to sit and ponder how the people around us were doing -- we assumed that we were all doing fine. I think Leah said to me once "Yah lor, if that person is not upset, or doesn't say anything, then it's fine lor."
The reason why it struck me was that Audrey was one person whom we thought everything went fine for. She was always so caring, so thoughtful, so prayerful over our problems, that we could always rely on her. But I must admit that it very rarely (if ever) occurred to me that she was someone for whom we ought to show care and concern. During my finals last year, she made herbal chicken soup for Kelvin and me, and even delivered it to our rooms. When she was having her finals, she baked cakes for her friends and sent them to their doorsteps. She was the one I went to during finals to tell her about how each paper went. And she was also one of those whom I felt truly rejoiced with me when I got my final results. She was just such an awesome blessing. And I regret to say that I often forgot to bless her in return!
Yet, when I look back on my days in Cambridge, I think I often wondered why my friends didn't show much concern for me. They all just assumed that I had organised my life properly, that my studies were up to scratch, that I was doing fine. And I guess I did give people that impression, by the things I said to them (Kelvin will remember my very triumphant and I guess cocky response to his comment that I had organised my boxes very meticulously -- "It's me what." or something to that effect), and the way I tended to present myself to others. So even though I constantly lamented that my friends hardly showed concern for me, despite my going up to their rooms and chatting with them, cooking dinners for them and inviting them over, I realise I was just a pot calling the kettle black.
The lesson I got from all this: there's no person in this world who doesn't need--not merely want--the occasional pat on the back, the casual "Hello, how're you doing?" on msn or email, the timely hug, the oft-neglected prayer, a caring look in the eye. I am one of these people. Audrey is one of these people. Mum is one of these people. And I have to keep reminding myself that no matter how indefatigable someone appears to be, there is a little boy or girl within that is stretching out his or her arms, needing to be carried. Every once in a while.
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