A month has passed since our major move to Singapore.

While we’ve all better coped with the change and healed somewhat from acute homesickness, I’ve always wondered what our little two year old must feel, how bewildering it must all seem without being able to articulate it.

Why and how did EVERYTHING change suddenly?

Ever so often, she still talks about “Our Vista Big Home” (vista being how she refers to our old neighborhood filled with parks and tall trees) and “M’s motorcycle,” M being our neighbor’s red shiny vehicle which enthralled her every time it zoomed off.

I’m not a child therapist of any sort. But since she mentioned “Vista Big Home” a number of times, I asked if she wanted to make a craft of it. As much as I was grieving, I wonder if perhaps, she was, too.


While it appeared to be a lesson on shapes and colors, my prayer deep down is that it helped her in some way to process this unspeakable change where everything familiar to us disappeared overnight.

That it helped her realize that what we left behind has not been forgotten. That what no longer is, still lives in our hearts. That Home still exists, even if it is far away.

With her characteristic big smile at her masterpiece and tears behind my eyes, I thought, perhaps it was helpful not only for her, but for me too.


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