So, after an all-too-brief whirlwind visit to the UK—bursting with friends, family and much imbibing—it’s with excitement that I head back to the warm(er) embrace of Hong Kong to see in the year of 2010.
It’s been great. Catching up with old friends—or, more accurately, reminiscing with them—is always a joy, and more often than not, as we sit locked in chatter and huddled round pint glasses, it’s as if I never even left home. Linked by a shared heritage, the same things still make us laugh, make us long and make us cringe, and I believe now, perhaps more than ever, that this will always be so. A more comforting thought I can scarcely imagine.
But from the cherished old to the darling new I go. And to my family: ballooning ever outwards into youthfulness with the passing of time. From son to brother to uncle I have travelled, as new shoots—seen far, far too fleetingly—creep and toddle ever onwards into smiles and words. My uncledom is such a quick little pleasure—diaphanous, almost—but so worthwhile, so very strong.
For these relationships to transcend the turbulence of emigration is a wonderful thing, suggesting as it does roots that supercede routes.
The rhizome of family and friends. The rhiz-home, if you like.
A special feat.
But now, as I say, it’s back to Hong Kong, where the feat must be repeated.