It's the time of the year again where lanterns are hanging everywhere, mooncakes swarming in shopping complexe, selling at ridiculous price for one tiny little cake that can be gone in a few bites, not to mention the odd sweetness that cursed my tongue.
Perhaps because I'm faraway from home, thinking of my family and the usual small dinner feast, alone with no merry chatterings and that's why I despise dear old mooncake. NO. I just don't fancy them. I never did.
Besides not taking any form of egg yolk, I dislike them because everything is just too sweet. Perhaps only to me. And I guess the important thing is that it signifies the mooncake festival is here and is time to have a nice family gathering again.
My dad once said, its not about what you ate or the specialties of the taste such peculiar food gave you, but it's the meaning of eating it in certain time with certain people and for the sake of it's significant.
When everyone is talking about going home for its the fifteenth of the eight month of our lunar year, it simply reminds so much of home cooked food, what my mom used to make for such nights, her famous soup and her lo hon ko drink. Simply craving for it. Not forgetting dad's chef stunt once a while. I won't even mind washing an enormous amount of dishes and cleaning up the greasy kitchen.
Here I am, alone in the middle of foggy forest , gazing at the reddish moon hidden behind the hazy polluted air bed. Well that's if only I have the mood for a midnight stroll carrying the paper lantern searching for the big yellow roundish sphere that's suppose to be the desert of the festival. And the Chinese has the old saying, when you miss home, take a look at the moon.
I miss home.