Surinamese Style Fried Noodles Kit

Growing up as an immigrant’s child, I often saw my parents balance so much with so little. Grand vacations were out of the question, but they found joy in the little things, like the tiny road trips we would take.
The night before one of our road trips, mum had fallen ill, so pa, who rarely cooked, took charge. I watched him in the kitchen, fumbling with ingredients, reaching for some spices, cutting up a few veggies, and opening up a bag of noodles. “Let’s make this work,” he said, determined. The result wasn’t perfect, but it was full of love, packed into containers for our trip the next day.
That morning, we set out for the trip, and stopped somewhere away from the city to eat. We unpacked the noodles, and as I took my first bite, I couldn’t help but smile at how proud he was.