It was a lovely morning.

I was in Mom’s kitchen, having breakfast with my parents before heading for work.

Dad just ate his portion of nasi kerabu. Mom was still savouring the other half. She eats slow. Well, that’s how she is, even before she had her minor stroke. I was munching the last piece of my second roti canai.

“How long have you been with this organisation?” Dad asked.

“Almost two years,” I answered.

“In fact, I’m on my last month.”

Without hesitation, he said, “It’s time to let go then.”

For the past two years, Dad saw me almost every week. I would leave my KL family Sunday morning, stayed with him and Mom in Kota Bharu during weekdays, then head back to Kuala Lumpur to be with my wife and kids for the weekends.

I enjoyed the drive. I still do. The 6-hour LPT drive from Ampang to Pasir Puteh (where the office is) gave me ample time to be with my thoughts. And audiobooks. I have listened to more than 70 titles (some I listened more than 4 times), wide-ranging from Why We Sleep by Matthew Walker to Awareness by Anthony de Mello to The Black Swan to The Fools Who Thought Too Much. I listened to self-helps, to branding and marketing, how to run a business, how to meditate, how to diet, how to think and how to write well.

“It’s time to let go. Pity your family in KL,” he added, smiling.

This is not the first time he said this. A few months prior, we casually spoke about this when he walked me to the car.

It’s been two years. Time flies.

And every two years, I change employers. A friend told me it doesn’t look good on my CV. It raises potential employers’ eyebrows. But then, when I joined this one, I declared that I will only stay for two years, and then move on. Nothing personal, it’s just how I roll.

I like the fact that there’s a specific time that we all could adhere to.

Maybe I like serving different causes, for different purposes.

I still draw, take photos, craft designs, produce videos, edit timelines, shoot stories. For each move, what I do remained the same.

And this time, I’m nearing 50. My thinking is slower, but deeper. And my listening skills – having listened to audiobooks and unable to talk back – perhaps, became sounder (pun intended).

Normally, I wouldn’t. But this time around, maybe I should listen to Dad.