The Foods She Misses At Home

By Anon / Spring 2026

Tuesday evening, she is on her way back to her dorm, tired and exhausted. The three-hour lab session that just ended sucked out almost all of her energy. She drags herself on the way back.

This isn’t a good day, not at all. She has been feeling down this whole day. She realized it early in the day, but didn’t have any time for it. Now, she finally takes the time to reflect back on her day.

“Nothing went wrong. What happened to me?” she thinks to herself.

No answers appear as she thinks back, but the emotions she set aside rush back to her. Unconsciously, she walks faster and faster. She ends up almost running, purposefully ignoring others’ worried looks on her way. She shuts the door behind her the moment she enters the room and throws herself onto the chair.

This is a tiny, cluttered room where she stays for her first year as a university student. A desk, a chair, a bed, a closet, and her stuff scattered everywhere. Right in front of her is the desk with the math materials she worked on before heading out for the lab. Next to them are her recently used items piling up. She hasn’t tidied her desk for a while, letting everything stack up next to the small piece of space kept for things she is currently working on, her maths this time.

“Mom can no longer catch me diving into my phone with my desk untidied!” She laughs to herself realizing this. She felt that some emotion she didn’t catch fly past. However, she happily accepts that, believing that she had become an independent adult making her own decisions.

After slouching in the chair for a while, she stretches out her arm to push the math materials away into the pile of clutter. Then, seeming to be moved by some unknown power, slowly and steadily, she pulls out her phone and calls her mom.

Her mom is far away or, more precisely, she is far away from her mom. She left everything behind for the degree she is pursuing here. She is separated not only in terms of physical distance but also time. In between them lies the Pacific Ocean and nine hours of time difference that makes them awake at different times.

Luckily, it’s noon over there. She puts her head on the space she just cleared up on her desk, waiting for her mom’s voice to arrive.

“Hello, can you hear me?”

“Yes. Can you hear —”

“What’s the time over there?”

“… just past 8 p.m..”

“Well, what’s the call about?”

“About nothing. I don’t feel like studying, so I chose to call you!”

Her voice isn’t energized as it normally is, but she still makes it in a way that people cannot tell her long, terrible day.

“I don’t have anything particular I want to share,” her mom replies calmly, with no sense of annoyance or impatience.

“Let’s chat. I miss the Zang Zang Bao*.”

She starts with this topic coming out of nowhere. She can almost taste the pastry as she describes it.

“Summer break is coming. You can fly back to have the foods you want…”

This conversation reminds her of the foods she misses at home and new foods she eats here. Suddenly, she picks her head up and searches for something on her desk.

“Haha! Found it!”. She holds a packet of biscuits up in her hand as if demonstrating it to someone. Her voice clearly reflects her excitement. “I found these biscuits here. It’s really good! I’ll bring you some when I get back”.

“If it’s not super-sweet, I’ll be happy to try”, her mom answers with full confidence in her familiarity with her daughter. The daughter’s pouty face clearly shows that she is correct.

However, this “unwelcomed” snack doesn’t let her down. She tells her mom about every snack that she tried here, picking up the one she is currently having on her desk, or recalling them from memories. She talks about them as if selling them to her mom. Then, she moves on to other items on her desk, her souvenirs from trips, lab project outcomes, and other interesting items. Throughout the talk, the foods on her desk get picked up and sorted into a new pile, so do the school materials and other items. By the end, the desk cluttered with stuff gets tidy, so does her mind cluttered with emotions.

The call ends in about an hour. She gets up from the chair, leaving the desk with a piece of empty space for a new task. She is back on her typical nighttime routine. Now, today seems to be an ordinary day, but her light steps and unrealized smile reveal something different.

“Goodnight,” she whispers to herself as she turns off the light, truly believing that tomorrow will be a brand new sunny day.