May 31, 2018

My dearest,

As we drive around JB in a car our friend lent us, I ask you whether you’re excited about being back. You ask me what’s there to be excited about.

There’s our favourite chee cheong fun stall, I say, those freshly steamed and rolled rice noodles with Uncle and Auntie’s secret sauce. Coffee by one of my favourite baristas; Taiwanese-style porridge with dishes that arrive super-fast and piping hot (the better to withstand the air-conditioning at full blast); silky-smooth wat tan hor, threaded with egg white and yolk. All our friends here.

I’m excited, for sure. Shouldn’t you be, even more so? After all it’s your hometown, your jiāxiāng.

You look at me and say your jiāxiāng doesn’t have to be here. Your jiāxiāng is wherever your husband is, wherever I am.

I grunt, tell you you’ve been hanging around me too much. But I smile nonetheless.

Yours, ever and always.