Kinda dreading Chinese New Year and Valentine’s Day, the days marked out to celebrate Love, be it the family bond or the romantic kind; both of which I am lacking. Christmas wasn’t such a big deal here but Chinese New Year is the most important festival in our lunar calendar.
Plucked up the courage to ask to be invited to the traditional family reunion meal on new year’s eve and was third time lucky. Kind of embarrassing and bit disappointing when turned down though in a nice way but I was so determined not to spend yet another special day on my own that I persevered and learned to have thick skin. This was the last friend I knew well enough that I felt I could risk asking and not be thought of as impudent.
I am sure I will have a good time and have adverted the onset of feeling sorry for oneself which was threatening. Sometimes one just has to take a leap in the dark and hope for the best. After all what did I have to lose? No risk no gain right?
They say life is too short for regret. My biggest isn’t the obvious one, that of the failure of my marriage but missing the boat on finding out who my parents really are and communicating with them beyond the shallows of small talk. Apart from my earliest fond memories of Mum burning the midnight oil sewing away so that we had new clothes to wear on Chinese New Year’s Day. However empty our stomach and family coffer, Mum made sure we were dignified in our poverty. We didn’t feel deprived or suffer an inferiority complex because everybody else in the Yau Hamlet was in the same boat. And in our cash poor state we were very inventive with making up games to amuse ourselves with our cousins. Roaming the tiny village freely we led not only a carefree existence but got very fit climbing trees, chasing one another and stayed out till our mothers called us for the evening meal. It was a happy childhood that money can’t buy.