摘要：My son, all of six months old, was on his frst flight out of Singapore, ensconcedin a bassinet that hung precariously infront of me. With my backpack holdingboth laptop and milk bottles stashed inthe overhead compartment, I wonderedhow this journey and new living arrangement – of commuting for work betweentwo countries with a child in tow – wouldpan out. Peering out of the window into thevast blue sea beneath, it struck me that forcenturies, mothers and their children havemade such journeys for various reasonsand under more harrowing circumstances– many of whom never lived long enoughto return home.
