Written by Mika's wonderful husband - Tom.
This summer, I had the opportunity to travel to Thailand, prior to meeting up with Mika in Beijing.
After spending a few days in Bangkok with our son Tyler, and his lovely girlfriend Jane – they both soon insisted I fly south to the resort town of Krabi for a little rest and relaxation.
So before I knew it, I was on my own, in the little beach town of Ao Nang. And I did what every other white, middle-aged male does in Thailand - I rented a scooter, and went exploring.
Just a few hundred metres away from the beach, not far from where dozens of sun-burned Scandinavians board cigar boats for their morning high speed tours to “James Bond Island”, just around the corner from the Muay Thai kickboxing stadium, and tucked inside a small grove of trees - was a most peculiar sight. It looked like a tall bee-hive.
Parking my scooter, I walked along the boardwalk and past a tiny pond before entering this strange little hut. Inside was a sculpture. A pair of golden hands, protecting another (smaller) pair of hands. Maybe the hands were praying, maybe not, but inside this quiet little shelter, they seemed very alone.
There was a plaque on the wall, and the words of the 96 year-old artist Louise Bourgeois - written in both Thai and English.
“I will not let you go, but do not abandon me. Keep your grip. Hold me close forever and ever.”
It was then I realized this was a small memorial to the many victims of the tsunami that struck Thailand and other countries ringing the the Indian Ocean. In an instant, over 230,000 lives were lost.
I imagined the hands to be that of a husband and wife, or a mother and older child - but I couldn’t be sure as to who would be speaking these words. Was it the husband speaking to his wife? The mother re-assuring her child? The child to her mother?
Perhaps they were both calling out to God. Perhaps it was God calling out to them, above the roar of the rushing water.
Wondering if they had survived the flood, I left the hut and walked past the little pond. It was then I noticed another, much smaller golden hand. This little childs hand was alone, reaching out from the water, and much too far away for anyone to hear his cries for help.
After spending a few days in Bangkok with our son Tyler, and his lovely girlfriend Jane – they both soon insisted I fly south to the resort town of Krabi for a little rest and relaxation.
So before I knew it, I was on my own, in the little beach town of Ao Nang. And I did what every other white, middle-aged male does in Thailand - I rented a scooter, and went exploring.
Just a few hundred metres away from the beach, not far from where dozens of sun-burned Scandinavians board cigar boats for their morning high speed tours to “James Bond Island”, just around the corner from the Muay Thai kickboxing stadium, and tucked inside a small grove of trees - was a most peculiar sight. It looked like a tall bee-hive.
Parking my scooter, I walked along the boardwalk and past a tiny pond before entering this strange little hut. Inside was a sculpture. A pair of golden hands, protecting another (smaller) pair of hands. Maybe the hands were praying, maybe not, but inside this quiet little shelter, they seemed very alone.
There was a plaque on the wall, and the words of the 96 year-old artist Louise Bourgeois - written in both Thai and English.“I will not let you go, but do not abandon me. Keep your grip. Hold me close forever and ever.”
It was then I realized this was a small memorial to the many victims of the tsunami that struck Thailand and other countries ringing the the Indian Ocean. In an instant, over 230,000 lives were lost.
I imagined the hands to be that of a husband and wife, or a mother and older child - but I couldn’t be sure as to who would be speaking these words. Was it the husband speaking to his wife? The mother re-assuring her child? The child to her mother?
Perhaps they were both calling out to God. Perhaps it was God calling out to them, above the roar of the rushing water.
Wondering if they had survived the flood, I left the hut and walked past the little pond. It was then I noticed another, much smaller golden hand. This little childs hand was alone, reaching out from the water, and much too far away for anyone to hear his cries for help.
2 comments:
Wow, I really love this honey. Maybe you do have a sensative side after all.
xo,
M
cool stuff Tom ... and U told me u have bad memories with scooter! see!
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