Bread

One of my ambition is to bake a loaf of bread from scratch - yes, from flour, margarine, salt, sugar, yeast, water and milk; knead the dough by hand, and bake it in an oven.

So, one day, when my daughter returned home from school screaming that she was bored because there was nothing to do, no home work to be bothered with, no book to read, no text book to revise, I suggested that we bake a loaf of bread.

That cheered up her day, and presto, here's the result.

The whole house smelt fantastic! It has been awhile since my house smelt of that wonderful, fragrant, fresh loaf of bread. Well, it didn't taste perfect - the crust was a bit too thick and hard, and the dough did not rise 100%, or was it because we punched it down too much and did not let it rise the second time? Well, it didn't matter. We had a wonderful time together as father and daughter.

I have not spent as much time with my family in the last 14 years as I have been doing now. Not just because I have not started work, but also because my children are free, too. They don't have so much home work that they don't even have enough time to sleep.

My son just told me the other day - his school bag is empty, except for a change of his sport uniform and his lunch box.

Should I be worry about their academic advancement? Should I be worry that they may not catch up with their friends back home? Well, perhaps not. Perhaps life is more than that. Perhaps, life is that fragrant smell of freshly baked loaf of bread that lingers in your house. Perhaps life is that cracking branches underneath your feet when you walk through the brisk lush green forest reserve on a glorious morning with your son. Perhaps life is that chit-chat after dinner. Perhaps life is that plate of spaghetti that you taught your daughter how to cook. Perhaps life is those small things that fall through our grasp of significance, but nonetheless fill it with small joy, small pleasant surprises, small memories that will endures when all other things fade away.