(I will miss.)
Yes, I know I said I hated the damn place. Shut up. But those other voices are right. There are worse places to be.
And I have suffered here! That always counts for something in a human, right? Emotionally, the last two years have been blasted hard work.
So I have had to look for, and find, consolation. That has come not in the Hong Kong shopping malls (although Starbucks and I Scream have helped), but in its impressive and majestic mountains, seashores, and rocks.
Even then my consolation has not been complete: I have imagined the heaving waters as Tiger's homesick sorrows, and the beach rocks her tears, picked up and pelted at me in fury.
So I am not about to admit I have found my immediate land and sea scapes my full spiritual comfort. These mountains, they are not home. They are hard work to climb, and sometimes the sea swell makes me queasy.
But I would say, looking over the experiences of the last two years, that I have grown a certain love for living on a two hundred million year island in the sea, where my thoughts are surrounded by beaten-up old volcanoes. I can trace with my finger their inside veins. I can see their broken surface, pricked with sparkle. I can see proof that solid can melt. I can watch great surges of waters from sky and ocean. And I can think about permanence and transition, the passing of minutes and millenia, and how all things change and stay the same.
We each get our kicks somewhere, right?
Today, while I come to terms with new realities and all the instabilities and insecurities of our future living arrangements, I make the kids and Dig take a walk against the sea and rocks.
Where I can quietly watch the rocks and pretend to everyone how we come here only for a Sunday stroll along the shoreline.
Ahh. That's better.
And just as well that Tiger is in charge of the route-finding to the tip of Ma Shi Chau.
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