Moving on ...: September 2019

As an adopted child in a family where an adopted child was superfluous, I did not grow up with a lot of advantages. My toys were the imaginary friends which dwelt in my five fingers.

Growing up marginalized turned me into a taciturn and morose child with very little incentive to belong and hence, I grew up without a sense of belonging, a trait which was to shadow my future.

Handmade lanterns from discarded peony paintings.

I was told, for I could not remember, that the father (not biological) with the vague shadowy face dotes on me. There were piggy-rides on his back but as he was always away, I had no recollection of him. However, there was the one year when he returned during the mid-autumn lantern festival. This was registered in the image of a dragon shaped lantern which he, in his magnanimity procured for me. It was the first and only lantern I ever had. During the night lantern parade, I was careful with the candle inside the lantern but not for long. Eventually, the dragon lantern burnt itself out while the other kids gathered around the flames watching it awestruck.

Recycled jam jars and empty tins form the base of these lanterns.

IKEA lantern

Its pretty to look at when lit.

Funny how the lantern festival brought back those poignant memories.

MIL (mother-in-law) had an interesting past, a story so mesmerizing that she was wont to share them with me, over and over again whenever the occasion calls for it.

The tea set (picture: right) once belonged to her and as I breakfasted on my morning coffee and pumpkin buns, it was her face I saw. My thoughts percolated through years of reminiscence. Old stories ingested between morsels of bread and sips of coffee culminated in a modicum of fondly remembered memories.

She (God bless her soul) had since left for a better world.

Noritake tea set (Glenwood) which once belonged to MIL now in my custody. The mismatched teapot was a later addition.

She (like me) was an inter-related adopted child. By that, I meant that we were adopted by one branch of a family tree from another branch of the same lineage. As a result, we hit it off right from the beginning. Her biological parents probably gave her up because where she came from, girl child were superfluous.

In her adopted home, she wanted for nothing. Her father was a minor civil official while her eldest brother ran the family business. The ladies of leisure in this extended family spent their days flocking around the mahjong table, breathing in the fragrance of blooms from open courtyards, each served by a personal maid supported by a host of subservient attendants. The only flaw laid in the history of her time. Hers was a China torn by upheaval and turmoil. Warlords with grand ambitions sprouted from a burgeoning revolution in the chaos of a twilight dynasty. When the communists appeared at her part of the world, the life she knew collapsed. She was of marriageable age so a quick match was made with a suitor from a neighboring community. Everything they owned were confiscated. An older sister was given an empty bowl complete with a pair of chopsticks before being thrown out of house and home. The sister, or so the story goes, hung herself in despair. While she ... she married my FIL (father-in-law) and appeared in these shore, never returning to the land where she was born. She was a good and kindly woman and she left a deep emotional impression on my character. From her I picked up the grace of solicitude and - the incomplete Noritake tea set. With that thought out of the way, we move on.

Nieces are such a blessing when you do not have daughters. Mine got her mother to prepare wonton fillings (picture: right) for my Wisdom Soup. (No, I won't elaborate on the purpose of said soup) We celebrated this occasion with a cake and homely meal.

Lotus leaf fish

Wonton Soup

Meanwhile, I had been occupied for the past few months gathering material and planning the layout for these handmade bags sewn for a concert hosted by a local church.

By the way, this is the chicken stewed with the kacangma I bought from Kuching.

Kampua Mee
(from Kuching)

It boded ill when a bout of peculiarities hit me. Why was I being petty and ill-tempered with *Jody because she refused to sit on my lap. And why, oh why was I administering martial art stints while running after her with a long cardboard roll spinning between my hands? (*Jody is my chihuahua. - no animal was harmed in this travesty.)

I had gone stir crazy from the self imposed confinement. It was time to hit the road.

My school buddies and me met up for lunch while the family betook us all for a nice restaurant dinner. After washing all that down, I was completely cured of stir-craziness, which simply goes to show how palatable food titillates the appetite and enriches the mind.