Bonds of love: What I learned growing up as an only child

The moment I entered our old family house during the recent Christmas break, I was overcome by a strong feeling of nostalgia.

My bedroom appeared exactly as I remembered it when I moved out 10 years ago. On the neatly ironed white bedsheets was my favorite childhood soft toy, a silly-looking monkey with incredibly long arms.

I opened my bedside drawer. My big box of colorful origami paper, along with half-finished paper cranes, were tidily kept in a box, carefully sealed up by my mom.