We hurry to work. We hurry through meals. We hurry our children, our conversations, our quiet moments until we do not even remember what we were rushing for. I know this because I lived it.

The day before my late father passed away, he wanted dim sum. Unusual for him. A small request, really—just a meal, a pause, a moment together.

But we were rushing. I do not remember for what. 

We had noodles instead. Quicker. More efficient. I have carried that noodle meal with me ever since. Not as guilt—not anymore—but as a reminder. A quiet bell that rings whenever I feel the pull to hurry past something that matters.

What I Iearned that: Time is not guaranteed. Small requests are often quiet invitations. Rushing is rarely worth what we sacrifice for it. And I learned that showing up—even for the most boring things, even for getting the home dresses for myself and mum that we both love and even for the errands we would rather skip—is a form of love that does not need to be loud to be real. 

Besides, I hope that this site could connect with the different culture to bring people together. 

I hope we learn to pause, maybe get some tea while looking at the computer screen for a while and live in the moment. Ask yourself what you will do when you are not afraid. Embodies whatever we believe. Learn to love. Count the blessings. Appreciate and learn about the past to understand the presence. 

My late dad did not ask for dim sum because he was hungry. He asked because he wanted to be with the family—slowly, joyfully, fully. And though that moment passed, I try to give him what he asked for: by living and make time now, with the people who are still here.