micro memoir

micro memoir

The Last Reunion Dinner

Reunion dinner used to be rowdy at Lei Hwa Restaurant. Three tables, every year. Today, it is only a memory. They have left.

micro memoir

The Shoes I Left Behind

These shoes were my faithful companions. They walked with me through life’s snow and storms. Now worn out, left behind while I continue on alone.

micro memoir

The Cost of a Minute

I asked the lawyer for a photocopy. His clerk pressed a button. One minute passed. The bill was $50. That minute was worth more than some people’s entire day. PS True story

micro memoir

What I Can Give on Valentine’s Day

I can’t give you a pendant. But I can give you my heart. And, honestly, my empty wallet too.

micro memoir

Working on my craft...

knock knock. survey. no, thank you. door closed.

micro memoir

Press Conference Successfully Completed

Minister said a lot. Motherhood statements. About nothing. Full of air. Press conference successfully completed.

micro memoir

The Ride Home

This picture reminds me of the days when life felt smaller, and safer. Afternoons like this were quiet and warm. No rush. No pressure. Just the sound of wheels on the road and the feeling that everything was okay because someone steady was in front. I remember sitting there, feet

micro memoir

The Morning the Pigs Screamed

I love pork. Especially roasted pork. But before I eat, I pause. I give thanks to the pig who gave its life so that I could be fed. Behind that love is a memory that never softened. In the late 1960s, behind my kampong house, there was a small pig

micro memoir

An ordinary breakfast.

While having breakfast with my friend at Yakun, suddenly she slid the phone across the table. “My sister sent me these messages. Take a read” I hold the phone and read the message once, then again. She picked up her coffee and stirred it even though the sugar had already

micro memoir

The people I loved have left.

My eldest sister, the light bulb of our family, the one who always switched the room on. My sister-in-law, who cooked prawns so perfectly that love tasted like garlic and heat. My mother, my earthly God, who needed no altar. My father, who never said much, but made sure there

micro memoir

The Nicest Prison Concert in Town

To bird keepers, it sounds like beautiful music drifting from a cage. To me, it feels like sitting in the audience while a singer cries for help from a prison cell.

micro memoir

Where I Feel Most Dressed

If you invite me for kopi, I am most comfortable here. Excuse the dressing. This is who I am when I am not pretending. PS I write books too. They live here: https://payhip.com/samchoo