For a Fortnight

Or, how a two-week family vacation turned out to be just what I needed.

Sundaze Book Café is the home of everyday magic, joyful living and conversations likely to be had over a hot drink with a friend in your favourite café, capturing the syrup-slow feel and glow of a Sunday. I’m Michelle, and I’ll be your host today.

For a fortnight this autumn, instead of pensively gazing out of the window while the leaves turned and the seasons changed beyond my control, I flew home to two of my favourite countries in the world. Malaysia and Hong Kong are the homelands of my immigrant parents; their lack of distinct seasons a balm for my disassociating soul.

Instead of worrying about the past being the past, I reminisced decades-old stories and bone-deep memories with my cousins, each chapter helping me return to myself, each story feeling more and more like home.

Instead of the quietness that can be October in England, my heart soared as I shared my favourite spots in town with my boyfriend for the first time. I showed him the bus stop that I’d catch my shuttle to work from, my old favourite breakfast haunt, the Post Office where I hilariously shipped seven boxes home in seven consecutive runs, the 7-Eleven that knew all of my 2am Saturday snack sessions after a night out, the distinctive sounds and everyday noise of Hong Kong.

Instead of quietly keeping to ourselves in a country that others us, I belly-laughed under the stars in Malaysia, surrounded by 30 odd members of my family as we took an after-dinner walk by the river in Ipoh. Every conversation or crinkle in eyes or cackling laugh a stark reminder that we are a product of nature not always nurture; I grew up thousands of miles away from my Granny, aunties, uncles and cousins and we’re all SO alike.

Instead of endlessly planning and doing and making and thinking, I revelled in the blissful cosset of just being with loved ones after years apart. To be known is to be loved and it was unbelievably heartwarming for my aunties to pop out to pick up vegan treats from their friends' bakery, for my cousin to remember the mamak I loved trying with him, for my uncles to recount stories of the first time they held me and of my first-ever visit to Malaysia before I’d even turned one, for my Granny to hold my hand in hers, a carbon copy of Dad’s, of her son’s.

Instead of stewing in my thought daughter self and stepping closer towards becoming an island, we made memories enough to last us all another few years before we’re next reunited.

Instead of trying to find a deeper meaning in every minute moment of my everyday mundane, I leaned into days of no plans and letting others lead the day and reminding myself that life is often not that deep and that’s fine. In doing so, I realised that life IS really just so deep.

For a fortnight this autumn, I remembered who I’ve always been. I just needed a grounding trip to my other homes to get there.