I never thought I’d be the kind of person who would spend $8 on a loaf of bread—sourdough, to be specific. It sounds strange, but this seemingly small act reminds me just how blessed I am.
Whenever I grab a slice from the sourdough loaf on the kitchen counter, I think to myself, what a privilege to eat such nice things.
The ripple effect of this thought is that I end up feeling grateful for everything else.
How blessed am I to enjoy a warm breakfast?
What a privilege to brew a fresh cup of coffee.
The Splurge on Sourdough
There was a time when I thought spending more than $4 on a loaf of bread was unreasonable. But with age and awareness, I’ve come to understand the value of good food.
Understanding the difference between mass-produced, flavorless bread and freshly baked, slow-fermented loaves deepened my respect for bread-making. And like anything of quality, appreciating the process behind it makes us more willing to invest in it.
I think about what my dad always said: “I don’t care how little money we have, I will always buy high-quality rice. We eat rice with everything, and I will not let my family have low-quality rice.”
He is a simple man—one of the few people I know who cares more about quality than quantity. No matter how tight money was, he would always ensure that everyone was fed well.
I realize now that my appreciation for good food comes from him.
Food is the way to my heart
For most of my life, I thought my love for food stemmed from using it as a coping mechanism during my family’s hardships. But looking deeper, I see that my connection to food was shaped by love.
My mum baked sweets, and I watched her with fascination. My dad bought us the food we loved, even when money was tight.
Food, to me, is tender and loving. It makes sense that I cherish it so much.
Having good food reminds me of being a happy, chubby kid whose parents wanted her to have the best—the best of their cooking and the best that could be bought.
Amidst the pressures of bills and rent, they worked tirelessly, yet in my innocence, I never once realized my privilege.
I was well-fed. I was safe. I was happy.
All because they loved me.
Food brings a feeling of home and comfort because it reminds me of the warmth I felt in my youth.
A new perspective on Family
On the cusp of 28, I see this so clearly now.
For most of my life—since my parents’ divorce and the unraveling of our household—I told myself the story that they didn’t love me.
The lack of connection, conversation, and presence made me feel like I didn’t have a family. So, I convinced myself I had to parent myself because they didn’t care enough.
I spent years feeling cold isolation from them. At first, circumstances created the distance, but over time, I kept my heart closed.
Yet, in the past few years, I’ve watched old wounds heal and our family come together again.
Not restored to what it was, but something different—something unfamiliar yet beautiful.
We have transformed as a family unit. Like bread proofing or a dish evolving through different methods, we’ve changed. We aren’t the same, but we’ve deepened. We’ve gained layers, texture, and richness.
Yes, our family may not look like the storybook version, but we are a family that made it through the worst and back.
We have been made whole again.
Embracing My Privilege
As I step into this next chapter of my life, I want to acknowledge my privilege.
Specifically, the privilege of having the family I have. Of having parents who, despite their struggles, did everything they could to set me up for this life.
Of waking up each morning with the simple joys of an $8 loaf of sourdough, freshly brewed coffee from Japan, and the comfort of a warm and filling breakfast.
Reflecting on this reminds me that we do not become who we are in isolation. We are shaped by our circumstances, our environment, and the people around us.
We shape one another, and our choices ripple into the lives of others.
Though life holds many paths before me, I celebrate the deep knowing that no matter what, it always works out in our favour.
I have what I have now because of what I went through.
My life is the way it is because of those who came before me.
I didn’t create this life alone—I was gifted it first.
I am nothing but blessed.
Here’s to 28.
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