Nothing is better than going home to family and eating good food and relaxing. –Irina Shayk
It was a very busy morning that began, as most good food stories do, with a trip to the bustling morning market. The sun was barely up, yet the market was already alive with chatter, clattering baskets, and the unmistakable smell of fresh produce. My mission was clear: yellow onions, ginger, scallions, chicken thighs — not breasts — and, of course, a full tray of eggs. I wove through the crowd like someone on a cooking quest, guided by instinct and a handwritten list already smudging in the humidity.
By the time I made it to the poultry stall, my hands were half full. Still, the adrenaline of preparing for a family gathering kept me energised. There’s a certain kind of joy that comes from planning a meal for people you love — a mix of responsibility, anticipation, and just the tiniest dash of panic. Before heading home, I made a quick detour to the bakery to pick up a packet of chocolate flour. The kids had been asking for chocolate cookies for days, and with everyone gathering later, it felt like the perfect time to spoil them.
It was, without a doubt, a productive morning. Every step, every purchase, every bag cutting into my fingers had a purpose. All of this effort was for our family dinner later that evening, where everyone was coming together for an early Christmas celebration. It’s that special time of year when no one has excuses, no one rushes off somewhere, no virtual calls are needed, and no one has to tuck the kids into bed early. Just real faces, real laughter, and real conversations. And what better way to honour that moment than with a feast prepared with love?
Back home, the kitchen quickly transformed into the busiest room in the house. If kitchens could talk, mine would probably say, “Brace yourself — she’s cooking for the whole clan again.” Pots simmered, knives chopped, ingredients lined up like soldiers waiting for orders. I had committed myself to preparing at least three dishes, a task I embraced with equal parts excitement and determination. Cooking for family always feels like both a duty and a privilege. Each dish carries its own meaning — memories, traditions, or simply a favourite flavour that makes someone smile.
As I moved from stove to sink to chopping board, I realised something important: moments like these are not just about food. They’re about connection. They’re about the energy that fills a home when everyone is preparing, sharing, or simply being present. And most of all, they’re about communication — family communication, to be specific.
In a world where messages are typed faster than they’re felt, and where conversations are squeezed between tasks, celebrating together becomes more precious than ever. Family communication doesn’t always come in long heart-to-heart talks. Sometimes, it begins with simple questions like, “Do you need help with the vegetables?” or “Should I set the table?” Sometimes, it’s in the silent, satisfied expression someone makes when a dish brings them back to childhood.
These small interactions form the foundation of stronger relationships and help kickstart conversations — especially when you haven’t seen each other for a long time. They help us understand one another in ways that text messages never can.
During this month-long festive season, it’s easy to get swept up in celebrations, decorations, and endless to-do lists, including clearing your pending work tasks. But at the heart of it all is the time we devote to the people who stand with us through every chapter of life.
And the beauty of family communication is that there’s no agenda, no checklist of topics. You can talk about anything you like, flowing from one subject to another — economy, politics, travel plans, career updates, kids — you name it. Best of all, no one is going to chase you away at 10 pm because the shop is closing. You can just sit, relax, and talk into the night. And if the kids get sleepy, they can tuck themselves into bed anytime.
You see, prioritising family doesn’t always mean grand gestures. Sometimes, it means slowing down enough to listen and spending quality time together. It means checking in, even when you’re tired. It means showing appreciation through simple words like “thank you” or “I’m glad you’re here”. And importantly, practising active listening — no phones on the table.
As the dishes came together and the aromas began to fill the house, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the morning market chaos, for the workload, for the noise in the kitchen, and for the dinner that awaited us. But most importantly, gratitude for the people who would soon sit around the table.
Family gatherings aren’t perfect. They can be messy, loud, emotional, and absolutely wonderful. But in this beautiful festive season, they remind us why communication, understanding, and love are worth nurturing. In the end, the true feast isn’t the food on the table; it’s the bonds we strengthen along the way.
As we enter this festive period, I hope we all take the time to reconnect — not just with words, but with presence.
Merry Christmas!
It was a very busy morning that began, as most good food stories do, with a trip to the bustling morning market. The sun was barely up, yet the market was already alive with chatter, clattering baskets, and the unmistakable smell of fresh produce. My mission was clear: yellow onions, ginger, scallions, chicken thighs — not breasts — and, of course, a full tray of eggs. I wove through the crowd like someone on a cooking quest, guided by instinct and a handwritten list already smudging in the humidity.
By the time I made it to the poultry stall, my hands were half full. Still, the adrenaline of preparing for a family gathering kept me energised. There’s a certain kind of joy that comes from planning a meal for people you love — a mix of responsibility, anticipation, and just the tiniest dash of panic. Before heading home, I made a quick detour to the bakery to pick up a packet of chocolate flour. The kids had been asking for chocolate cookies for days, and with everyone gathering later, it felt like the perfect time to spoil them.
It was, without a doubt, a productive morning. Every step, every purchase, every bag cutting into my fingers had a purpose. All of this effort was for our family dinner later that evening, where everyone was coming together for an early Christmas celebration. It’s that special time of year when no one has excuses, no one rushes off somewhere, no virtual calls are needed, and no one has to tuck the kids into bed early. Just real faces, real laughter, and real conversations. And what better way to honour that moment than with a feast prepared with love?
Back home, the kitchen quickly transformed into the busiest room in the house. If kitchens could talk, mine would probably say, “Brace yourself — she’s cooking for the whole clan again.” Pots simmered, knives chopped, ingredients lined up like soldiers waiting for orders. I had committed myself to preparing at least three dishes, a task I embraced with equal parts excitement and determination. Cooking for family always feels like both a duty and a privilege. Each dish carries its own meaning — memories, traditions, or simply a favourite flavour that makes someone smile.
As I moved from stove to sink to chopping board, I realised something important: moments like these are not just about food. They’re about connection. They’re about the energy that fills a home when everyone is preparing, sharing, or simply being present. And most of all, they’re about communication — family communication, to be specific.
In a world where messages are typed faster than they’re felt, and where conversations are squeezed between tasks, celebrating together becomes more precious than ever. Family communication doesn’t always come in long heart-to-heart talks. Sometimes, it begins with simple questions like, “Do you need help with the vegetables?” or “Should I set the table?” Sometimes, it’s in the silent, satisfied expression someone makes when a dish brings them back to childhood.
These small interactions form the foundation of stronger relationships and help kickstart conversations — especially when you haven’t seen each other for a long time. They help us understand one another in ways that text messages never can.
During this month-long festive season, it’s easy to get swept up in celebrations, decorations, and endless to-do lists, including clearing your pending work tasks. But at the heart of it all is the time we devote to the people who stand with us through every chapter of life.
And the beauty of family communication is that there’s no agenda, no checklist of topics. You can talk about anything you like, flowing from one subject to another — economy, politics, travel plans, career updates, kids — you name it. Best of all, no one is going to chase you away at 10 pm because the shop is closing. You can just sit, relax, and talk into the night. And if the kids get sleepy, they can tuck themselves into bed anytime.
You see, prioritising family doesn’t always mean grand gestures. Sometimes, it means slowing down enough to listen and spending quality time together. It means checking in, even when you’re tired. It means showing appreciation through simple words like “thank you” or “I’m glad you’re here”. And importantly, practising active listening — no phones on the table.
As the dishes came together and the aromas began to fill the house, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the morning market chaos, for the workload, for the noise in the kitchen, and for the dinner that awaited us. But most importantly, gratitude for the people who would soon sit around the table.
Family gatherings aren’t perfect. They can be messy, loud, emotional, and absolutely wonderful. But in this beautiful festive season, they remind us why communication, understanding, and love are worth nurturing. In the end, the true feast isn’t the food on the table; it’s the bonds we strengthen along the way.
As we enter this festive period, I hope we all take the time to reconnect — not just with words, but with presence.
Merry Christmas!
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of Sarawak Tribune. The writer can be reached at Shirley.suat@gmail.com.
