Almost Chinese New Year

Londoners woke up this morning to warm weather!  Instead of -2 degrees and snow/frost/ice, it was actually 2 degrees, and dry.  On Facebook, I saw a prompt- “A year ago today, this happened…”


Right.  Like I would forget.

From my husband, I received via text-  Please don’t break anymore bones.  I don’t think my heart can take it.

Back on the little, kind-hearted Cookie, I made it through this morning’s ride, unscathed.


God is good to me.

Besides, it’s going to be Chinese New Year soon.  Which means if for some reason, you feel you didn’t quite wake up on the right side of the bed for 2016, go ahead- jump on a Chinese person’s band wagon, and start over.  More than Christmas, Chinese New Year is such a great time to spring clean, reflect, celebrate.


My favourite thing to do every Chinese New Year was visit Popo at home.

66080_303814179729680_105922926_n (Chinese New Year, 2012)

Her house would be too crowded and too hot.  I may see a niece or a nephew I didn’t know I had, a cousin-in-law I don’t quite recognise.  At the end of the visit, she always packed some food for me (curry, hee pew soup, chap chye), reminded Jon to thank his mother for the flowers, and waved us away.

Unlike many Singaporeans who would go on holiday during the Chinese New Year period, I always thought how lucky I was to have my grandmother, who gave me a reason to stay.



Yesterday, Summie invited me to lunch.


Listening to her chatter excitedly about university, the ghosts of her great-grandmothers, Fong Kwan, Mrs Chan Khai Way, and Mrs Chew, hovered near.


Girls like you don’t have to get married, Fong Kwan, my grandmother once said to me.  You can do anything you want!  Later she also said, If you keep feeling so scared each time someone asks you to marry him, how will you ever know what it feels like to be married?  Just try, lah!


Listen to Popo, She said.

I listened.  I’m listening.


Mom?  Her voice anchoring me in the present.  Are you listening…


Yes, go ahead…

So there are empty spaces in your heart- they are called, sinuses.  

Really?  Gosh.  Latin roots?

I don’t know, Mom- you go google. 


But these empty spaces?  You can touch them.  I’ve placed my fingers there.




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