Breakfast

On Saturday, I went to her house for breakfast.  She made me this local dish called ‘kampua’.  But she made it with her own unique and distinctive style, using Bovril instead of soy sauce.  Then, she added some fried eggs and some chicken pieces.  I didn’t tell her then, but it tasted so nice.  It was different from what I always ate, but it was good.  What touched me more than the taste itself, is that she wanted to make breakfast for me, and she put a lot of effort into making it for me.  She could have just made a simple one, but she chose to add additional stuff like the omelette, the chicken chunks and the fried onions.  It really made me feel loved.  And honestly, while it wasn’t the best I had tasted, it was one filled with love.  So, I love it so so much, and I would love to have this for breakfast for the rest of my life.

Then, I was already sick, and I didn’t dare to be too intimate with her, because her father was just behind me.  So I guess I didn’t compliment her on the ‘kampua’ as much.  And I couldn’t talk much because my nose is killing me.  She didn’t mind being close to me, even though I was sick.  She didn’t mind that I could infect her with my flu (which I did, unfortunately).  Once again, she touched my heart. 

In the afternoon, we fell asleep at my house.  She was watching over me the whole day, even though I knew she was feeling unwell too.  I should have been more caring towards her.  I will do so in the future.  She really cared for me so much and kinda nursed me back to a reasonably good health. 

I’m really grateful to have her in my life.  And I want to love her the way she has loved me.  I was to shower her with love and care for her just as she had done me.  Thank you, my love.  Thank you for being in my life.