I stood alone outside the entrance of the residential complex, ready to hail a cab.

Just as I was about to press the call button to tell my mother not to bother coming to see me, a familiar ringtone sounded not far away.

There, a slightly clumsy figure emerged slowly from a taxi, hands full of my favorite dishes, struggling to free one hand to answer the phone. Her cheerful voice came through the line:

“Sweetie, Mom's downstairs already.”

“Didn't you say you were craving braised beef? I got some fresh pork chops for you.”

I was momentarily stunned.

When I first got married, I wasn't used to using my...