“Mom wants you to come to San Francisco for Thanksgiving. You and Zora. Come stay in my apartment.” This is a trap. This is a trap. This is a blessing.
I grew up as the older child of two immigrants from rural China. To onlookers, they are simple, private people. They left behind all the family they had on the other side of the world, and they had two children from whom was expected deep commitment to and respect for family. What they lacked in family they recreated in friendships with other Chinese immigrants. And while my spirit was boisterous, and while our relationship has never been simple, I still yearn beyond practicality to earn their love.