Kayla Ng

"There are no great things, only small things with great love. Happy are those."  - Mother Teresa It’s 6:50 a.m. My alarm clock rings, gradually increasing in volume, beckoning me to get out of bed. I got up, braided my hair with eyes half-open, and savored the last few minutes I had to myself. I hurried down the narrow, tiled stairway of the small restaurant we were living on top of and sat down for breakfast. The metal gates of the restaurant were wide open, inviting in sunlight and hungry customers. My friends and I quickly ate what we could to fill ourselves up just enough to feel hungry by noon. By 7:20 a.m., our tuk-tuk was waiting outside the restaurant doors. We got in, held on tight onto our belongings, and sat through an hour-long journey to a village called Kandal . This was our morning routine for the next six weeks.   As we journeyed from the city of Phnom Penh to the outskirts leading to Kandal, we witness the immediate change in our surrounding...

Home. I’ve never thought that this word would have so many meanings for me as I journeyed on in life. Growing up, my family and I moved quite a bit – 4 times to be exact. In May of 1998, I was brought home to a small room on the 2 nd floor of a terrace house located in a city in Malaysia called Subang. This was my first home, where I lived during the first 3 years of my life. It was tiny and uncomfortable (for my parents) at times because my parents and I had to share a room. After my sister was born, we moved another 3 times, finally settling in a house we can call our own in Shah Alam, Malaysia . This house was the biggest one I’ve lived in and we no longer had to share rooms. We have a garden and a substantial amount of land for my dog, Simba, to run around. To me, home was a physical building. My house in Malaysia Something my late grandpa implemented in the family was to have our dinner together every day. I spent every evening with my entire extended family. Ab...