ah ma,

every time this year you’d do the same things for me, do you remember?

a bowl of mee sua, chicken soup with a boiled egg. an ang bao. and then you’d write the numbers 0-9 on tiny pieces of ripped up ang bao paper, before crushing them up so that i could pick four, for the lottery.

you never won with my numbers.

you’re here now but you won’t understand even if i tell you, i really miss you and i thank you for shaping me to who i am today. people wax lyrical about a mother’s love, but you proved that a grandmother’s love was even more powerful. i wasn’t a bad kid but i’d made some mistakes in life. whatever it was i’d know that you would still love me for whatever wrongdoings i’d committed. whatever you did, you did it selflessly, with so much love for the people around you. though you never went to school, the wisdom you handed over was more precious than anything i’d ever learnt in textbooks. i just wish you had more time to teach me more.

i’m crossing the 25 mark, ah ma. it’s scary. it’s like i have less time to screw up; it’s like i have to be grown up and independent.

things have changed, so so much.

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