B

B

Zhou Pei Lin





And I find it kinda funny

I find it kinda sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had





B
Yin Yang

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Monday, October 01, 2007

Last night after watching America's Got Talent and CSI: Miami with my mother, while waiting for Yasmin to show up, she brought out a book she had bought at the second-hand shop in church. It was a really old recipe book for basic Chinese recipes from the various provinces of China.

I flipped to the first few pages where printed in Chinese was the date of publishing, and it was stated as 1967. I was holding in my hands, a 40-year old recipe book, thankfully in both English and Chinese. Looking at it, it was as though my mother was telling me, "I know one day you will leave the nest, but don't forget your roots."

For a few hours my mother and I just sat there with the book open, looking at the tasty-looking recipes, and she started telling me how to say the names of the dishes in Cantonese. I grabbed a pencil and wrote on top of the Chinese names how they might sound in Roman letters. "Char Siew Fahn" and "Chao Fu Yong Dan" were just two of the better known ones.

We had a good laugh, and we barely noticed what was on the Taiwanese variety show playing on the TV, while I struggled with my Cantonese pronunciation, especially one of the cardinal points, "North" (sounds a little like bput). Since the book had several Northern recipes, I had trouble with some of the names. But it was great fun, and it had been a while since I laughed so hard with my mother. Even my brother woke up and wandered into the living room, wondering what all the noise was about. It felt really good, though. We may have our differences (very often), my mother and I, but we love each other, and we both know it.

Recently, I expressed my desire to spring a surprise on someone, and it would cost a lot. She calmly took out her cheque book and wrote a cheque out for the sum of money, put my bank account number at the back and dropped it into the cheque deposit box of my bank.

It sometimes pains me to see how much my mother gives me, not just financially, but with everything. She eats leftovers that my brother and I haven't had the time to touch, and even though we eat simple fare like pickled lettuce and rice with some bits of fried fish or waxed sausage (or lup cheong as we usually call it), we don't complain because we know how much she goes through to put that food on the table.

Sometimes I wish I could give back as much as she has given.

Thanks Ma, I love you.

. // prawninator | 12:12 + ~

|
To whoever you are, wherever you are, I love you. I probably don't know you yet, but when I do, I'll know, and so will you. And you'll love me for who I am, as will I.

You might be living in my neighbourhood, or some other town or country far away. I don't know. And neither do you, at this point.

Wherever you are, I know I'll find you... if you don't find me first.

It's just a matter of time.

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