A post-it note is a bright and colourful square of paper, useful for saying things that are hard to say when someone is face to face with the person they love. In my desk I have a drawer full of post-it notes in lots of different colours: yellow, pink, orange, blue and green.
Even though I feel a bit breathless, I get out of bed because I have an important message to write. I decide to choose blue, because this is Marlowe’s favourite colour. But when I go to take the square of paper out of the drawer, I have a messy feeling in my brain. My thoughts are tangled in knots.
Pink is the colour for love, orange is the colour for happiness and yellow is my favourite because it is the colour of Wài Pó’s egg tarts – delicious and sweet. Blue and green are the sadder colours; blue like the clothes that Wài Pó has never stopped wearing since my mum died, and green like the velvet chair that my dad sits in when he has his serious face on and wants to be alone.
My fingers touch all the post-it notes. Making decisions is hard, especially when I have the nerves in my body. I practise deep breathing like Wài Pó taught me.
With my eyes closed, I see Marlowe the very first moment she arrived home from London in the United Kingdom. Her hair was messy and her face looked tired because of swollen eye bags. She took my hand inside hers and I noticed that her touch was empty and loose.
Sometimes the body can be present without the spirit. That’s what Wài Pó says. I think this is true.
Eyes open, my thoughts are clear now and I choose a pink post-it note. I write my message:
We are such stuf as dreems are made on and our litle life is rounded with a sleep by William Shakespeare from the Tempest. Said by Prospero the majican. First red to me by our dad James Eve who explaned these words are somthing to do with the dreem of life. Love from your sister: Harper明华Míng Huà Eve.
I wiggle all my toes and all my fingers. For the first time in a long time they feel warm. This is because I am getting better. I always knew in my heart that I would.