Next week the Year of the Metal Rat will give way to the turn of the Metal Ox. The small will give way to the stubborn. Or so it seems.
This year feels different, of course. So many of us won’t be able to return to our hometowns for reunion meals. But we are fortunate: so long as our family and loved ones are safe and sound, healthy and well, isn’t that all that matters?
I can cook my own reunion lunch. I will call my family and exchange news and greetings, hopes and prayers. But there won’t be my mother’s chicken rendang or my father’s cloyingly sweet fruit syrup dessert. Nor the pork and prawn wontons my niece makes from scratch, wrapping each dumpling by hand and frying them instead of steaming because it’s time for celebrations and feasts; something a little sinful can go a long way in ensuring the coming year is an abundant one, a generous and kind twelve months.
It can and will still be, so long as we care enough and remember to show that we care. Small or stubborn, we shall all have a pretty good year. Our bellies will be full and hearts more so.