This year, 2015, is significant for Lynn in more ways than one.
FIFTY years ago, Singapore gained independence and embarked on an arduous journey of nation-building. Five decades on, this little red dot has gained a foothold on the global stage, proving to the world that small does not necessarily mean insignificant. Twenty-five years ago, the Torque story began. A quarter of a century on, what started as one of several homegrown car magazines has become Singapore’s No. 1 monthly car mag. Those years are more than just numbers on a calendar or candles on a cake – they represent the blood, sweat and toil that have gone into growing a magazine (and building a country).
There are also innumerable lessons learnt along the way. Some lessons, however, do not take as many years. My daughter turns five this year, and I have picked up many invaluable lessons through her – about life, love and the world around us. Her childlike innocence is like a magnifying glass that allows me, as a grown-up, to see things in their true simplicity and with greater clarity. Through her, I learnt that you do not need to record a video, because you can just “save” it in your head; that rain is God holding a giant watering can; that you buy a car for the spoiler, not the other way around; and that she decided to make her world debut five weeks early because it was boring inside my tummy where there was no Lego.
Through her, I got reacquainted with board games and paper dolls from my own childhood. Through her, I discovered the raw joys of watching a bean grow into a sprout. Through her, I realised that a weekend staycation in Singapore can be as exciting as a three-week vacation in a country 12,000km away, as long as you spend it with people you love. All this is evidence of wisdom beyond her years – beyond us adults even. She has also made me realise that, in the words of author Kate Kerrigan: “Watching something you love grow is both a pleasure and a pain.” She will never again be that 2.2kg bundle we brought home in a car seat that made her look like a tiny pea in an oversized pod, or that toddler who is tickled silly by a spinning mobile above her cot. These have become memories tucked away (in my head and my hard disk) to be savoured years from now. Soon, she will be wanting to assert her independence.
There’s one thing that lynn doesn’t have to learn from her daughter – she’ll always be her precious little thing, whether she is five, 25 or 50.
