The impact of Covid-19 has now reached all corners of the world. Many of us fatigued from the shitstorm that 2020 has brought, are comforted by signs of silver linings from the bleak realities of our days.
My own silver lining, came in the form of the simplest of pleasures.
I’d like dedicate this reflection to my own parents, whom we’ve spent a good part of a very difficult year, locked under one roof together. From washing to cleaning to child-minding to cooking – the reliance on one another to keep the household going was heavy. Yet, the days and nights we’ve spent together have really made for plenty of conversations and laughter.
Before all of this fades into memories kept only by images on our iPhones, allow me to tell you about…
Our lockdown life at Chestnut
Every morning, my mother awakes at 5.20am. Her biological clock is her alarm, and so she ushers in the new day with her daily routine of chanting in her praying room. Meanwhile, Kai En and my father, continue their snooze next to each other.
6.40am: Vincent’s alarm buzzes and we slowly ease our way into the morning routine. Given that there isn’t a bus or train to catch, it is nice to be able to listen to the birds do their morning chirping. Li En rolls around until Kai -now awake and ambles his way to our bedroom – slams open the door and dives into our bed to catch an extra shut eye.
By 7.30am, the household is buzzing. While I wash and dress the kids, my mum prepares her spread of breakfast. My parents have a knack for hosting guests, and it always come off so naturally to them to prepare things based on the palates of their guests, in this case, us.
Junice gets the Chinese vegetarian soonkueh, while Vincent enjoys an array of fruit jam and yoghurt. The kids, of course, are always properly fed with milk, fruit, bread, cereal and Yakult. Any sign of a rib sticking out of their bodies is almost taken as a crime in my family.
By 8.15am, Vincent and Kaien head up to their “learning corner”, where they spend a good half and hour together on math and a bit of French. It has become a precious father-son bonding time, and I’m really proud seeing how much more confident Kai at school work.
Meanwhile, my dad continues to plough through his daily dose of Lianhe Zaobao 联合早报. He dishes news of the latest on US-China relations, and tosses in quotes by the leaders caught in the crossfire. Since I was little, I always knew my father to love history and politics. He was always behind the newspaper analysing trade and political tensions. Now that we are adults, it’s become so valuable listening to his observations of the world.
The rest of the day is occupied by work for both Vincent and I. Work during the lockdown is mixed in with schoolwork for the older boy. Meanwhile, Lien just hovers around us like a little puppy, repeating the last two words of his brother, while buzzing around looking for things to play with.
My mother gets busy with the daily chores. On most days, we see her downstairs watering the plants, hanging up the laundry, and ironing the clothes. She helps watch Kai as he attempts to finish the little daily assignments I give him. I can hear their banter, and every now and then, the brothers fight and you can hear my mum – amused half the time – trying to stop the mini wars.
By 11am, my dad pops into the room with the same question. “What do you and Vincent want to eat?” It’s a terrible question because we never really know, but he just wants to make sure he addresses the meal preferences of his ‘long-staying guests’. So with every standard answer “Anything also can, dad.”, dad trots down to the kitchen and starts his food prep.
One thing to note, my dad is a real whiz at the kitchen. Throw him in any kitchen with any equipment, and he can figure a way to cook up a storm.
So over the next hour, the house is filled with sizzles and smells. At half past noon, the wizard presents his magic. A dish for Vincent (the angmoh/foreigner), a dish for my mom and me (the vege-soupy ladies), child-friendly protein rich dishes for the two kids, and a low-salt, low-protein dish for himself.
The same level of customisation takes place at dinner. There is always the right amount of serving carefully prepared, so only a little becomes leftover for them to use for a rainy day.
At 2pm, the kids – bowls of sweat from playing and fighting – are kicked into the shower. With fresh clothes and nicely brushed hair, they jump onto my parents bed and are treated to an iPad experience before nap time. By 3pm, the household is quiet and the boys are in bed snoozing, flanked by my parents on both sides.
The afternoon hours go by fast, as Vincent and I continue with work and finish up as much as we can before the week is over. I honestly appreciate this peace and quiet, and take a peek once in a while. The four of them sleeping together is a sight to behold.
By 5pm, my dad starts his routine of food prep again, and whistles and sings as he gets busy with the cooking. As Singapore is often plagued with mosquitoes, my dad often lights a mosquito coil, and places it next to him on the ground, as he works.
Our meals are fun mainly because we talk about the day that went by. We hear more stories of upheavals from Vincent’s office, while my dad continues with his forecast of the US-China conflict. My mum, tired of his obsession with politics, seeks to find new creative patterns to shove food into Lien’s hamster mouth.
Desserts are also a highlight, mainly because my mum loves preparing new ideas for sweet treats. The kids enjoy their share of popsicles that my mum lovingly prepares for them.
Post-dinner has become the highlight of the day. While my parents wash up the kitchen, we head out with the kids for an evening walk. Chestnut being far from the madding crowd, it is pitch dark and quiet every evening. Sometimes we get treated with sightings of wild boars in their evening stroll too, which makes for fantastic entertainment.
Since the lockdown, we’ve grown much closer to the children ourselves, and it’s been a really nice journey listening to Kaien’s own take of the world from his eyes. We miss Beijing greatly, and often talk about the things we did before, and the things we want to do when we get back.
Halfway through our walks, we sometimes catch sight of my parents also on their regular rounds. My dad – clearly the health-nut – is ahead of my mum who struggles to keep up with his strides. The kids run up to them like they haven’t seen my parents in ages. Then they’re off again, while we trail behind with the kids.
The night-time routine is one of lazy wind-downs, and reading practice with Kai. He’s improving since we left China, but reading takes patience and so more effort is required to keep up the practice. Sometimes, Kai runs over to join his grandma while she does her night chanting in the prayer room. I know he enjoys being with her – sometimes he prays with her, sometimes he sits there drawing.
And so the days comes to a close, and the Chestnut guesthouse winds down. Kai goes downstairs at half past ten to join the grandparents. He watches television with them and tries in vain to understand what Phoenix Television 凤凰卫视 is reporting.
He munches on the nightly supper of fresh cut fruits, and continues with his drawings. My dad, who loves drawing too, enjoys watching him in action.
For a period, weekend highlight was a Thai drama serial (translated into Chinese) starring a fair-skinned beauty called Jia-La-Jie. It’s gripping enough for even my dad and Kaien to get sucked in. It’s especially hilarious to hear Kaien’s reflections of the episode the following day. “She’s a princess. She met a man called De-Te-Ge and they liked each other. But when she was in Primary school, she met another friend, and when they grew up, he liked her but De-Te-Ge liked her too.” Even love triangles are clear enough for 5 year olds. I asked if understood the drama, and he quipped, “I can read some words (he meant subtitles) from the show.”
Here’s a flavour of the drama taking Asia by storm.
Before they go to sleep, Kai never fails to check with my mum if the sliding door outside has been locked. It’s funny how this has become his obsession, and it amuses my parents to no end. How telling of the person he will be when he’s older…
And so, the day is over, and the household finally turns in at midnight. It might seem like endless Groundhog Days during the entire lockdown, but busy days become fruitful days and before we know it, the months fly by.
The night before we left Singapore, I felt a genuine sense of sadness that we were going to leave the grandparents. It felt like abandonment, after almost half a year of being under one roof, more tightly knit than ever.
Sending loved ones off is always more painful for the ones staying back, but especially for my parents to come back to an empty house again would definitely be take some getting used to again.
So I guess for me, Covid-19’s biggest silver lining is the opportunity, not just to get to know my parents again, but to really appreciate what their kind of love really means.
I couldn’t thank them enough of course. I just hope I’ll be able to live up to their kind of love with our own kids from here on.
Little Roots in China 