Lee Seow Ser
Seow Ser views her family home as the launch pad from which significant journeys are charted. Like a boomerang, she has travelled away from her professional base in legal practice, venturing towards a new space, as author and editor, to produce creative and purposeful quality works that bring her joy. Seow Ser leads a ground-up project To SIR (Socially Inclusive Reads) with Love, to
create inclusive books for children, with or without special needs. The mother of two boys enjoys family life, sports, nature, gardening, baking and life’s little joys like a hot cup of coffee or tea. She
relishes her new adventures across wide skies and expansive fields dotted with orchards filled with earth’s colourful bounty. At home with herself, Seow Ser found confidence, momentum and gumption to chase her second wind, as she strides forward on a refreshingly organic and recalibrated path.
a local-ties memoir
about a place to which I always return
About the memoir
I was invited to contemplate the ‘big question’ that needed answering, in the place-based memoir I was planning to write. It led me to reflect upon the condition of my present being, and how I have come to be. My thoughts turned naturally to my family and the home in the East Coast neighbourhood in which I grew up. It is a sanctuary to which I always return, even after marrying,
having children and a home of my own.
I have emerged from two significant but markedly different－one blissful, the other painful－periods in my life. I hope the former has made me a better, bigger person. From the latter, I have remained reasonably sane, strong and am still smiling. I attribute this to the love, care and support of my family, for which I am deeply grateful. Writing about my reflective experiences in this creative non-fiction essay－the best way I know how－is my way of paying tribute to those who have looked after and looked out for me. It is also
an important act of remembering the endearing, beloved space in my parents’ home within which I had nursed my body, nurtured and steeled my spirit, lest one day the space be no more. I have likened myself to a wooden boomerang that has been excitedly flung out for a whirlwind
spin under blue skies and over green fields. The boomerang is sturdy, has eyes, listens to the wind yet follows its heart. In looping back through the crisp air, it charts a fascinating path of
intuitive return, before reaching a point of rest, its energy mostly spent. This story celebrates the comfort and solace provided by my home nest, where I could recover at ease and recalibrate in
Artwork: The Sanctuary