Going to the Polls

Today our country go to the polls.  Held on a weekday, instead of a Saturday as in many elections past, some see it as yet another ploy to generate more “feel-good” votes. Cynically, a further boost to the ruling party’s share of votes.

In Singapore, the election season, once every five years, never fails to generate an entire gamut of reactions, from emotionally feverish, to skepticism and dead apathy.

But Jenny would have been thrilled. Not for the chance to vote but for the holiday. I could still remember her grumbling in previous elections. Why can't polling day fall on a week-day instead and allow everyone a day off from work? She was never the typical politically awakened member of the electorate, though she could reserve her most stinging remarks on sloppy-looking politicians who do not fit the bill.

But of course, she is now missing on this election spectacle. And for all future ones to come too.

And if memory served me right, this might be the first time I had also gone voting without her.  In my younger days, it was common for the ruling party to return uncontested.  Over the years, after we got married and on most elections whenever voting were required, we reported to the polling station, always as a couple.

So in the afternoon, together with my oldest two children, now of voting age, we trudged to the nearby polling station to cast our votes. I could not say I felt particularly sad, not having Jenny in tow. Voting was really fuss free. There was not even a queue to allow me to mull over.

But Jenny would certainly have relished this extra day of holiday.  As I had. But whether that could buy her vote for the ruling party would be questionable.

I started the day in fact with an outdoor hike. Together with an old school-mate friend, we trekked into the Tree Top Walk in MacRitchie, taking the shorter route from Venus Drive. It took us less than an hour to walk to the suspension bridge, a free-standing platform, 250 m in length and wide enough for one direction traffic.  This was the first time I had gotten onto the Tree Top Walk, a highlight of the MacRitchie reserve.  Towering above the canopy of trees one gets a bird's eye view of the tropical forest.  But midway on the shaky suspended walkway I found myself feeling queasy. I never had nerves for heights. But I supposed that helped make the walk a more thrilling experience than what it was fashioned to be. No offense to my old buddy trek-mate, but I was quietly wishing that Jenny was my walking companion instead.  She would have much to say when she sees me walking gingerly with both hands grappling the two sides of the bridge as I made my way along the swaying deck of the bridge.

So this is another spot in our tiny island we call home where Jenny had not once stepped foot on.  There are many more for sure as she was not particularly an outdoor person.  I will for sure be making  more of such mental notes as I venture more around the island and discover new and interesting areas that I wished I could also share with Jenny.  This island of less than 720sq km is small but I suppose she could have lived longer to cover more of it.

Could have and should have. Sigh.