Naanyu’s babies.

My Mom does this “fun” thing where, after everyone has served food and there’s some left in the pot; she goes round spooning it into everyone’s plate.
We all know she is going to do it but we never fail to protest. It’s like a dinnertime tradition.
Amongst other odd traditions is my younger sister’s record eating time that is always between two hours and a half an hour- on a good day.
My brother chomps his food down too fast and always manages to get into a yelling match with one of us, mostly our youngest sister.
My Mother sits by and watches for a bit before intervening with a single statement. Calm but firm and accompanied with the rest of the leftover salad or vegetables as atonement, this one is met with just as much protest.
It is odd. These little details never seemed important to me before. But sitting in the dark after a stressful day at school or having a lie-in on Saturday mornings: these are the most important bits to me. They fill me with light. The memory of our red salad bowl and “fancy glasses” that we take out to feel classy. The Chamomile tea my Mom brews after dinner and MarioKart© conflicts after prayers.
Home.

Crappy Teen Flicks on Friday
– How I know I’m growing up. #1