When I was on the train from Hanoi to Sapa, on that first day before I even realized how underwhelm this town making me. I met Heather, a generous, former school teacher who left her husband home in NSW, and went to travels with her friend. She’s teach art (and, I believe, still does) and I studying architecture. She gave me her sketch books. She’s written her wishes for something I’m occasionally scared of. Future.
I’m so afraid of ‘what’s next.’
What if I fulfilled my dream of speak fluent English and write English correctly?
What’s the next thing I’m gonna need to accomplish?
I’m afraid that it’ll never end. That’s also what makes the life mean something. It’s really depressed not to do anything. I tried, honestly, it’s equally hard to stay still, not cause any trouble, or try not to overthink about dying or growing old.
“Oh, you’re a sentimental young boy.”
That’s what she’s said. And will say after she’s read this. But another thing is, she told me, “There’s the saying ‘Those who can do, those who can’t teach, those who can’t teach, teach arts or gym.” I don’t buy it. Because I think, those who can teach is those who can do and those who give.
It’s my time to be a receiver. I have no idea what I’m gonna do with my new sketch books, but I’m take it anyway. I know it sucks when you truly wanted to give something to someone but then they refused.
Thank you for giving me the sketch books Heather. Without you I don’t think this will happen.
My first drawing in five years that wasn’t school assignment.
* * *