My aunt and I have been keeping up through WhatsApp. She was out having lunch with some friends yesterday, probably at some food court in Singapore. She sent me a picture of fish ball noodles and asked if I missed it. Yes, I whatsApped her back, I miss having those flavorful noodles with those delectable fish balls! I also asked if she remembers how my mom used to give me most of her fish balls whenever she ordered that noodle dish. I can still see it in my mind's eye, my mother picking up the fish balls one by one with her chopsticks and putting them on my plate. She would invariably say that fish balls were not her favorite or that she could have fish balls any day, and that I should enjoy them when I can. But I knew it's because she knew how much I love fish balls. I didn't resist her gesture of giving up her fish balls, but accepted each fish ball as coming to me shaped and packed densely with her love.
More than fish balls, I miss the fish balls that came to me from my mother's bowl.
Hear, my son, your father's instruction,
and forsake not your mother's teaching,
for they are a graceful garland for your head
and pendants for your neck.
Proverbs 6:8-9
