Sycamore

The air of late is electric with the residual buzz of the wedding of the first sibling in the family, and suffice to say things in the household are changing at a pace more rapid than I'd anticipated. It is a season of new chapters, a new quarter into the year that opens up a wide array of opportunities for more mistakes to be made, more wisdom found, and a further re-awakening of the soul. I have been back home for close to three weeks now and I still find myself stuck in the chapter of the past - the chapter of London that refined and re-tuned my outlook on a lot of things in the last year. I am of course, still human, and my desiring nature grows ever so strongly on what I wish I could still have, and that would have meant more time in the most remarkable city I've lived in, albeit for just a year. A sentimental, clingy part of me claws back upon the days where I would roam the back streets of the city in hopes of capturing more unique, unprecedented photographs, and not forgetting the major absence of fear when it came to crime, or just the rare instance of not gripping my bag tight to my chest whenever a motorcycle came rushing down a lane close by next to me. Or when returning to the flat at 11.30pm would never solicit a "Where are you now!" lecture from my parents, or any other responsible guardian. Where social courtesy was greatly exercised. Where flowers bloomed more victoriously in the Western sun, landscaped amongst natural carpets of soil. Where the grass was greener.

Simple pleasures.

I can safely and unapologetically say that I miss London, or just England, as a whole. I miss it to the point that I make a reference to it almost every time I veer towards a subject concerning the UK, and I am aware that I painfully wish time had not run so quickly especially in the last remaining weeks I was there. Why the strong sense of attachment? I wonder. It's not like it gave me everything that I'd hoped for in a new foreign place, but it in fact did quite the opposite in the latter part of my academic year, where I experienced what it was like for a system to fail me in terms of trust and respect. I shall be honest and admit that the last few months of the academic year has proven to be one of the most challenging periods in my life, not only because I was so shaken and upset from what had happened, but I was also devastated from realising just how naive I was in thinking that this bubble I lived in could do no harm to me. Goes back to the saying that in life, everyone will fail you, except Jesus. I sought to recollect all remnants of faith I had left and soldiered on in the dry days of my journey in a last ditch attempt to finish off the last few hurdles of bar school, and even then, I was merely trudging with a 10-tonne rock tied to my heels, barely making it to the finish point.

Having written that, and yet still acknowledging my endearment towards London, sounds a little crazy. But life is crazy, and I soon embarked on a new learning curve from such significant hardships, to gain important lessons the 22-years-old me would now appreciate. It was effortless of me to love London, but come moments of darkness, one would begin to realise how they could love the city even more so of the opportunity it gave them to shine that much brighter in days of adversity. It was not a perfect stay, and my affection for the place fluctuated at sharp peaks and lows in certain periods, but I left London and took away with me more than just a warmed, sentimental heart. At the end of the day, I took away with me a great dose of reality that London did not promise to my naive self it would be.

Life back home is, I would say, a drastic change from the personal freedom I had the privilege of tasting overseas. I get friends and relatives asking me why I chose to return, and why I didn't stay back in the UK to pursue my career. To that I simply answered, 'I don't know', other than the hard cold truth that securing a pupillage in the UK is beyond my league of ambition. And that just is, because I honestly cannot affirm the reason why this new season had to launch so quickly in this moment of question marks. I have never felt so helpless yet so dependent on God in seeking direction and wisdom for which path I would have to walk down, and if there ever were a time where I could experience the all-knowing, miraculous sign of God to set the compass point in my career life, now would probably be it. What assures me more of why I needed to return, oddly enough, was how unprepared I felt about the situation back home, and the realisation that I needed to at least be physically present in a place that essentially built me, albeit its thorn-like flaws. At this stage I'm not quite sure why I'm justifying the need for my return, but when all is taken into account, despite my interest for interim work experience abroad, home has always been my one and only nest, and while it strips you off the sense of security that London so generously provides you with, it in turn reminds you in many distinct ways, why you belong, and why you have to.

I have only but lately discovered the importance of actual self-discovery, and that life isn't about following a programmed set of milestones awaiting your ticks of accomplishment. It has been such a journey experiencing a myriad of emotions in London, having been reminded that strict milestones do not complete the character of one's life; trust in God does, amongst many other things. Thank you London, for being that avenue of change that would carve the next steps in my life for an unmistakable aim of glory to God Himself.