One of the things I truly miss about Singapore is the smell and sounds of home cooking piping through the kitchens at sunset.
Walking through the neighbourhood block just brings back memories of grandma’s savoury pork dumpling, grandpa’s roast Peking duck, mama’s sweet and sour pork, and mum’s chicken and potato curry. Even dad’s charred pan-fried snapper.
Suddenly, I am 7 again, running around the kitchen with grandma squatting in front of a charcoal stove fanning away, mum yelling at me to stay out of the adults way, and dad’s Cliff Richards’s record playing in the background.
Nothing like a dose of the past to remember my roots, what I am and have grown to be. You tend to forget the important stuff when you are away from home. I am grateful that images of my past are still fresh and real in my mind.
In time to come, when I have children of my own. It would be my dream to impart part of those little treasures onto them. What they have been born into. The heritage so rich, which should never be forgotten.
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