Mum used to say home’s where everything starts and flows (My memory of Hong Kong in the 80’s)

Mum used to say home is the centre of things.
It’s where everything starts and flows.

Home was where I learnt how to toss food in a wok like a pro,
and cook gingery egg fried rice that glowed on the table.

It’s where I climbed two hundred odd steps to bow to Lantau Island’s
gigantic bronze Buddha statue, whose head was sometimes shrouded by clouds.

Home was where I got caught up in city riots twice and the metallic smells
of bomb explosions and gunfire made my heart beat so fast I almost froze.

It’s where the lemony scents of red bauhinia flowers and pink lilies lifted my mood, and where foul smells of blocked drains and colonial corruption made me choke.

Home was where dad chain-smoked to relax, hoping to blot out flashbacks
of dead bodies, blood-stained roads and bombed sites in the Second World War.

It’s where mum and nan burned incense sticks every day and prayed
for relatives who vanished during the Chinese Cultural Revolution.

Home was where the rich lived in mansions at the peak while the poor
lived in makeshift sheds, at risk of collapsing like match boxes in typhoons.

Home was where we ate moon-cakes to celebrate the mid-Autumn Festival,
admired the full moon and wondered how its fairies fared.

Home’s where everything starts and flows.
It’s where I feel rooted, heart and soul.