‘Love is like the wind; you can’t see it but you can feel it.’
– Nicholas Sparks (born 1965); an American novelist, screenwriter, and producer recognised for his contributions to literature and entertainment. He has received numerous awards and accolades, including the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Romance Writers of America.
IT was a warm afternoon, the clock had just ticked past four, and the school day had come to a close. As I stepped out of the classroom, I saw a group of my schoolmates already gathered on the football field, kicking around a ball and warming up for a match. My heart leapt with excitement as I watched them play, but being eight years old I was too young and too small to join in the game.
With heavy feet, I walked slowly past the football field, casting longing glances at the ball that was being kicked around. I thought of resigning myself to the sidelines and watching the game, but my mother’s voice was ringing in my head. Early in the day, she had told me not to tarry too long after school as she might need some help around the house.
I was on the main road that ran the full length of the village when a strong gust of wind suddenly came, sending a flurry of dead leaves and debris up into the air.
Shielding my eyes and nose from the swirling dust and fine debris, I caught sight of a sheet of white paper fluttering in the wind like a kite whose string had snapped.
To most people, a box of white foolscap or A4 paper is an insignificant commodity, but in my village in 1961, a single piece of notebook paper was a rare and precious resource.
As school children, we treasured every page of our notebooks, for school supplies were not readily available in our isolated village.
With no road linking us to the main Kuching-Serian Road, the village shopkeepers struggled to keep their stores well-stocked.
Whenever someone required a piece of paper to write on, they usually tore a page or two from an existing school notebook.
Therefore, my attention was immediately drawn to the valuable resource, even though it was just a sheet of white paper blowing in the wind.
As a primary school pupil, I collected old newspapers that the village shopkeepers used to wrap goods such as food items. I was fascinated by their layouts, fancy fonts, and intriguing pictures, which explained why I didn’t think twice about chasing after the flying paper.
I managed to snatch it mid-air, preventing it from landing in a narrow water-logged ditch that ran alongside the main road.
Examining the paper, I discovered writing on one side, while the other remained pristine. I carefully slid it between the pages of my notebook, certain that it would prove useful at some point, and continued my journey home.
As it happened, the paper remained forgotten, buried beneath my collection of newspaper wrappers, clippings, and loose magazine pages, until years later, when I was in high school.
My mother, perturbed by the buildup of dust and cobwebs covering my collection, urged me to do something about it.
Sorting through the contents, I stumbled upon the paper once more, only to realise that it was a letter — a man’s declaration of love to a woman, without a specific recipient indicated.
By then I was old enough to appreciate why God made girls, so the letter touched some unfamiliar feelings that I did not know existed in my heart.
I read the letter carefully, imagining what it must have been like for the person who wrote it. As I pondered the letter’s meaning, I wondered how it would feel to be in love like that. I also wondered if I would one day find someone who would make me feel the same way the letter writer did.
I was a voracious reader, so despite my lack of experience in romantic love, I found the words in the letter delicate like flowers, begging to be cherished.
Yet despite my burning curiosity, I knew better than to pry into the private affairs of others. I figured it was none of my business.
As the years rolled by, the letter became a distant memory, fading into the recesses of my mind like a forgotten dream. It was lost among the many possessions I had acquired and discarded over time, a casualty of life’s unrelenting march.
Yet, even as the letter slipped from my grasp, its words remained imprinted on my heart. I could still recite them, like a cherished verse from a beloved poem, though the exact phrasing had long since eluded me. Yes, the letter was gone, but its essence lingered on, a testament to the power of love and the enduring nature of memory.
Below is the abridged version of the letter, the original of which was in Bukar-Sadung, a Bidayuh sub-dialect spoken in the Serian District.
My darling,
I love you.
I want to grow old with you.
You’re my sunshine on a rainy day.
You’re the light in my darkness.
Forever yours,
—————
The letter appears to express deep affection and commitment from the writer to his significant other. For whatever they are worth, here (according to me) are some possible interpretations of the meaning and intentions behind each line.
“I love you”: This is a straightforward expression of love and affection by the writer.
“I want to grow old with you”: This line suggests that the writer was committed to his partner for the long haul. He expressed a desire to spend the rest of his life with his significant other.
“You’re my sunshine on a rainy day”: This line is a metaphor that conveys the idea that the writer’s partner brought joy and happiness into their life, even during difficult times. The writer likely wanted to express how much his partner meant and how important she was in helping him navigate life’s challenges.
“You’re the light in my darkness”: This is another metaphor that conveys a similar sentiment to the previous line. The writer was saying that his partner brought light and hope into their life, even during the darkest moments. This line likely emphasised how much the writer’s partner meant to him and how much he relied on her for emotional support.
Thinking about the letter on and off over the past fifty-five or so years, I still find it amazing how certain memories can stick with us for so long, even if we lose the physical object that triggered them. The fact that I still remember the contents of the love letter after all these years is proof of how deeply it had impacted my personal life and worldview.
I guess it’s natural for people to wonder about love and whether they will find someone who will make them feel the way the writer of the letter felt. Love can be an incredibly powerful and transformative force, and it’s something that many people spend their entire lives searching for.
While we can’t control whether or not we find love, we can control how we approach it. Being open to new experiences and relationships, working to become the best version of ourselves, and putting ourselves out there are all important steps towards finding love.
Even if you never find someone who makes you feel the same way the letter writer did, that doesn’t mean you won’t experience love in your life. Love comes in many different forms and can be found in unexpected places. The important thing is to keep an open mind and an open heart and to cherish the love that does come your way.
Who knows? Love might just sail on the wind and land right in your heart.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the New Sarawak Tribune.
