Miss Day.

She lives alone, two doors away from my house. Always ready with a friendly smile. Her eyes bright like black cherries.

Most evenings, she sits in her garden. Watching as children come home from school. And she would talk to anyone. The neighbours, the kids and even strangers out on their evening jog or walking their dogs.

Many would nod and say hello. But people are such a suspicious lot these days. Some feel uncomfortable around her perpetual cheerfulness, her never-ending smile. They enter their homes with an obligatory greeting and shut their doors without getting to know this little old lady. Their loss, I say.

She moved in when I was a young teenager. I was tinkering at the piano one evening when she rang my doorbell and told me she played the piano too. That I should visit her one day. I did and boy, she was a maestro! I would visit her house every other weekend since, and we'd have fun with little duets and impromptus.

Some years ago, I picked up the saxophone.
And while I was causing a racket 2 houses away, she called.

"Is that a saxophone I hear?"

"Yes, Miss Day!"

"An ALTO saxophone?" (giggling like a school girl)

"Yes, it is! How did you...??"

"Come over, darling. I have something to show you!"

So I went.
Her house smelled faintly of perfume and freshly made Milo that day. After I sat down, she went into her room and took out an old black and white framed picture.

It was her family portrait.
Only, it looked more like a small orchestra.

A family of ten stood around their musical instruments. A white baby grand, drums, 3 different saxes, a trumpet, violins, a cello, a double bass and a vibraphone.

I looked at the faces in the portrait, searching for a familiar face. Then I saw her. The tiny girl with bright black cherry eyes.

She was the youngest of 8 siblings in a musical family. Each child studied both the piano and violin, as well as a third or fourth instrument of choice.

And it turned out, hers was the saxophone (she played all three soprano, alto AND tenor horns too).

She explained she was from a blessed and privileged family. Her eyes misted when she told me that they were all gone now. Miss Day and her 2 brothers (one in Canada and another in Singapore) were all that's left of the Sabapathys.

She told me about her childhood. How her parents showed kindness to everyone, whoever they may be. How she was brought up to love and believe in Jesus. And that to love and believe is to love others. No wonder she's always ready with a prayer, a hug or a compassionate ear. An angel who never fails to give encouragement and hope.

She led an interesting life. Like a stint with the British Airforce (pre-1957) in Penang. She trained to read the radar. And entertained officers with her music when off duty. She's even been on a submarine.

After Merdeka, she travelled to the US, performing in Chicago and other places. I could just see her. A shiny horn in her young nimble hands. Her bright eyes shut as she grooved the night away.

She never married. But I believe she's never really lonely. God was her first love. And she wanted to help people by sharing that love. She got regular visitors all the time, young and old. They loved talking to her, or crying on her little shoulder.

Of recent years, my visits to her house became less frequent (hangs head guiltily). But I'd always take her out on her birthday. An event we both look forward to every year.

We were at Friday's tonight.
Stuffed ourselves silly, caught up with what's been happening and had a jolly good time.

Meet Miss Day.

Happy Birthday!

She just turned 80.
And she has more joy you can pack into a crate of Kickapoo.