Sunday Morning Breakfast

I'm sitting here staring at my empty plate filled with crumbs and a banana peel. 5 minutes was all it took. My cup of warm Milo is fast cooling down, and will soon be less than delicious. Not like it was super delicious to begin with. It loses its appeal when you have it almost every morning.

You know what I miss every damn Sunday morning here in Auckland? Breakfast with my parents. I miss Mum knocking on my door ever so lightly, so that if I were awake, I'd hear it, if I were asleep, it wouldn't wake me up. I usually hear it. "Girl, want to join us for breakfast?" she'd ask. And I never refuse. =)

Breakfast at home constitutes going out to SS15 or USJ 2 or USJ 14 or SS13 or USJ 6 for a nice hot plate of hakka meen, or a steamy hot bowl of kuey tiow soup, or delicious nasi lemak, or crispy roti kosong with teh tarik.

Everything about it is awesome. Getting into the car involves the decision making process of where to eat. And since I have been going overseas a lot, they always let me decide. I love deciding where to eat. =) Going there, Daddy would have a lot of things to talk about - usually pertaining running/marathon. I'm often still in a just-out-of-bed daze to reply, but I do listen. It's like turning the TV on while you putter around in the kitchen. The noise is soothing, comforting. It lets me know I'm not alone.

Then, reaching our destination, we would then sit down at a vacant table and ponder what to eat. Daddy would give his orders to Mum, and she'll run off to place orders. I usually go about by myself to pick from the variety of hawkers. Upon returning to the table, as if by habit, we would ask each other "What are you having?" even though we kinda already know, and it wouldn't make a difference to us. But it's like an obligatory report. I always come back to my seat and automatically announce what I have decided to order.

All throughout breakfast we would chat happily about anything. Maybe it's something in the news. Maybe it's about my brothers who are usually not there, so we can gossip about them. =) Maybe it's about relatives. Or maybe it's just about nothing at all. Just random nonsense we decide to debate on like "Why yellow noodles give you tummy ache and white noodles don't".

Mum would always be the first to finish, so she would always stand up and start buying things for Keith to eat, start doing bits of marketing here and there, buying veges and meat and asking me what soup I'd like to have this afternoon so she can go get the ingredients. I'm usually the slowest to finish my breakfast so Daddy usually waits for me.

And when everything is done, we head to the car and make our way home. One hour. At least.

One hour of not eating alone, of having someone to talk to, of delicious food, and of getting out of the house.

I miss home. I miss my Sunday morning breakfast with Mum and Dad. Oh why can't I finish studying already?!