January 10, 2012

My dearest,

It’s almost Chinese New Year, you say. We haven’t bought anything.

We’ve got time, I say, no rush. It’s at least two, three weeks away. Right?

You consider this. I see you doing mental calculations in your head, something I’ve never been really good at. No, you say, we don’t have two to three weeks. We’ve got this weekend. The weekend after that everyone leaves for home. Balik kampung time.

Oh dear. Panic time.

We need to buy drinks, you say. 100 Plus, Orange Crush, Coke…

How about sparkling water, I suggest. Less sugar and it helps with the heat. It’s always hot during Chinese New Year.

Yes, you agree, and cookies. Plenty of cookies. Almond cookies. Pineapple tarts.

No pineapple tarts for me, I say.

Why not, you ask.

I’m from Malacca, the land of pineapple tarts. Plus Mom would kill me if I bought pineapple tarts and brought them home when she makes her own.

Does she ask you if her pineapple tarts are better than the ones you buy, you ask.

Of course, I say.

What do you tell her, you ask.

What do you think, I ask, I’m still alive, aren’t I?

Yours, ever and always.