Mr. Yadah Blah, my dreaded guest, finally arrived at my doorstep, luggage and all. I swallowed my dislike and welcomed him into my home and even hosted a small dinner party of 6 for him. I needed my friends to shield me from his yadah, yadah, blah, blah. Wawa took an instant dislike to his loud voice which spewed meaningless and offensive words all night long. Nobody could get a word in sideways. It was a constant barrage of I-me-my and I'm-the-best. However, I was happy that everybody liked my cooking, especially my stewed pork belly. Even Mr. Yadah Blah had a good word for it. Among the thousands of words that floated in my ears, I heard a friend's quiet comment which strangely stuck in my mind and touched my heart. It was such a small and common comment. He took a great liking to my pork belly and couldn't resist the fattest portions. It was sinful and he felt guilty. He very softly told me that it reminded him of his mom's cooking. I remembered that he lost his mom to cancer many years ago and I suppose in all that time he must've missed her cooking. Especially her stewed pork belly. I'm glad I cooked that dish.