Memories of Sheffield

“So how are things in Sheffield? Still the same?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” she said.

“But it has changed still… there are a lot less people these days. Many of you are all back here, and there are so few of us left.”

I just nodded in silence. I had dreamt many times of going back there one day. I knew there was nothing in itself that was particular special. Sheffield was just like a lot of other English towns. Small, quaint, quiet, cold. It was more about the idea of Sheffield, and what it represented to me personally that has led my mind back to it over and over again.

It was a place of escape, of new beginnings, of self exploration and learning. It left and indelible mark on me. I don’t know if it was despite of or because of how short a time I was there.

I learned the sense of comradeship people tend to develop with one another when living in a foreign land. Somehow, everyone you befriended were not just your normal friends back home. They were almost your brother / sister away from home. They looked out for you and kept you company, and you did the same for them.

I learned another way of life. One that did not involve viciously struggling and fighting in the corporate world for money or influence. I learned about summer barbeques, picnics in beautiful gardens and hills. And I even learned that walking to and from work / studies was perfectly fine.

And though I miss the beautiful hills, gardens and cool summer air, the thing I really missed the most was the bond I shared with the people I had come to know. I had grown so fond of them. I met a guy named Jason, whom I though (and still do) was the kind of cool guy I always wanted to be. An elderly lady named Auntie Ruth was also there, who showed me how a person could be 65 years young. I deeply respected a guy named Chee Meng, who sort of took on the role of an elder and took care of everyone. And I befriended a bubbly, cheerful but caring lady named Mary, who for some reason I grew the fondest of. It was her that I was speaking to now.

“Seeing all of you here, it makes me want to come back.” She had that look on her face. The kind of look a person has when their hearts are torn between two lovers, or in this case, two places.

I nodded again in silence. I understood.

To her right sat Jason. He came back two years ago, working in Kuala Lumpur. We just finished talking about his passion for running, and his super cool Vibram shoes. Brother Chee Meng had also came back 2 year earlier. He was no deeply involved in teaching English to the children of Myanmar refugees. A few moved to Manchester, or London. So many more had come home. And the new people who came, didn’t take root and didn’t bother to bond.

From my eyes, Sheffield was where all these great people and great memories were. But I could see through hers eyes that that Sheffield no longer existed. It’s shell was there, but big parts of its innards had been removed…..

And tonight, that big parts of that were sitting right at the table, coming together because of a common past and memory. Beautiful and sad at the same time.

I put my hand on her shoulder, as if trying to comfort her.

“Well, you can always come home Mary. We’ll all be happy to have you.” I said. Selfishly of course. We always want the people we love close to us.

We can never get back the memories of Sheffield we once knew. We can never make things back to the way they used to be. But we can make new memories, and they can be great too… right here in KL.

God bless you Mary. Till we see you again.

Take good care of yourself.