I opened the parcel from Singapore today. My parents packed in my winter clothes, my shoes, my bags, two boxes of biscuits, one tin of Chinese titbits, one huge packet of tea sachets, one tin of herbal tea essence, three packs of Maggie instant noodles, my teddy bear Jonathon and some photographs. Yes, I am a very happy person now.

When I tore open the box, everything that I pulled out of it made me want to cry. It probably sounds very melodramatic, but this is the first time I'm so conscious of how homesick I am. I didn't realise it was probably also a bad idea to look through the photographs while I'm in that soppy mood. I had requested for my parents to send me a few photographs, so I can decorate my room with them. But then, I realise that they have sent me some of my childhood photos, which I'm sure are the only copies left. (And trust me, my family is not as organised to have kept the negatives.)

I saw a picture that really made me want to cry. It was my dad's birthday and although my family isn't really the huggy kind of people, I forgot what came over me, and I hugged my dad from behind when he was sitting down, swing my arms around his neck and chest. My dad was probably really surprised, but very happy, because he was smiling really widely. I loved that photo and I know so does my dad. I know that he used to display this photograph on his office desk top. And now the photo is with me.

It sound so cliched now. For me to be homesick. For photographs to bring tears to my eyes. All because of a little parcel from home. But I don't care. I miss my family.