Coming Home to the Little Red Dot

This is my third trip back home to Singapore since making a long overdue one in December of 2013.


My mother couldn’t be happier, though a more permanent return would have made her leap with joy despite her weak knees.

While I have always liked flying transcontinentally as it is a good opportunity to catch up on movies via the on-flight entertainment system, I never ever look forward to the humidity of my home country.

I was reminded of the change in climate stepping out of Changi Airport when the moist warm air embraced me like a father would a prodigal son. It does feel like home though.

Stepping into a taxi invited another wave of nostalgia … the aroma of an air-conditioned ride mixed with a leathery new car smell is strangely comforting.

As the taxi pulled up to the foot of a familiar looking 12-level flat, my sight went straight to my parents’ apartment on the 11th floor.

Within minutes, my upward ascent ended with an elevator chime, signaling my arrival at the common corridoor outside my parents’ home.

We are all creatures of habit and that includes my mother. She has, at least 12 hours ago, been brewing a herbal chicken soup awaiting my return from a 24-plus-hour flight.


After setting down my luggages, I allow my tastebuds to take over all my other senses as I savor the bittersweet concoction.

Having lived in the U.S. for almost 15 years, I usually feel out of place when visiting Singapore. However, the familiar sensory experiences during the first two hours of arrival are always fun… like catching up with a long lost friend.

There are lots of catching up but I shall let sleep do her job at adjusting my body clock to a different time zone first. Goodnight.

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