November 11. Rememberance Day, and I have to work 10am-5pm at Whispers. I don't mind. I get up before my alarm goes off, putting on water to boil for a cup of coffee. I have a strange feeling of deja-vu but can't explain it. As I fix up my coffee I think of my great-grandpa, who fought at Normandy. I think of my friends Cameron and Jason, who have both served some time with the Canadian armed forces. I think of my friend Matt, who I met while on exchange and constantly regaled us with grand speeches about spoons and tires. Lastly, for no apparent reason, I remember a name.
A different name. An unusual name. A name belonging to a person in another country.
He also served some time with the army. But it was the Thai army. I met him five years ago, we were reunited almost three years ago. I haven't heard from him since then.
I made my coffee and walked back to my room, still in my pajamas. I fired up my computer to check my email. And one message stops me short, makes my heart thump once and then stop and not start again for what seems like an almost unbearably long time. My breath catches in my chest, my head spins, my eyes focus on the name of who sent the message.
"Tana Panruksa."
The name I never dared to even dream would still belong to a living, breathing person. I never dared to dream he was even still alive. The name I thought that from now on would exist only in the recesses of my memories.
Twenty-one years of agnosticism and for the first time in my life I feel like there is a God. And for once, he's being dead serious with me.
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