As traditions go.
Waking up to the sound of my dad puttering around the house.
Having rice for breakfast. (There's something about Peranakan dishes. They taste better reheated. Hmm.)
Having that tiny bowl of sweet longan and red dates.
The scorching heat of the Lunar New Year sun.
The usual sequence of relatives to visit.
The same things they say.
Mundane. But there's comfort in familiarity.
Having that tiny bowl of sweet longan and red dates.
The scorching heat of the Lunar New Year sun.
The usual sequence of relatives to visit.
The same things they say.
Mundane. But there's comfort in familiarity.
I was lost in the story of Steve Serrano and Roxanne Rayeaux, and I thought it was only nine when Erwin called. He was in the area, so we ended up going for supper at the Railway Station. The place was featured in today's papers. I feel like a proud mama. Haha.
Mmm. Thinking very very carefully.
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