We had a reunion dinner gathering at our place on Chinese New Year’s eve. We dressed up the house to the nines and cooked up a storm. I even had Mal put on his traditional Chinese outfit to match the festivity mood but somehow I had forgotten about myself. I wanted to put on something RED.
Every year, I would scorn at my mum’s superstitious beliefs on the DOs and DON’Ts on this day. Now, I realize how much I have taken to her bizarre customs. I can’t believe how much I am behaving like her. I guess I am after all my mother’s daughter.
So of course my mum used to make us wear RED on this big day. But the fact is, my wardrobe is loaded with solemn black and earthy colors of every shades. I have NOTHING bright and cheerful, much less ching chong RED.
Then I caught a glimpse of red in the remote corner of my closet, something still wrapped in the cellophane bag, something I brought over hoping to give as souvenir.
I couldn’t care less. I ripped it open and donned it on. I knew that was the closest I could get.
I ended up looking more like a kebaya girl.