When I look in the mirror…
When I look in the mirror, I see my father. I see his hairline, his eyes, his nose, his chin. I see the dark shadows that are not there, only behind his eyes. I see secrets that he kept. I see the weight of the secrets and the shame that he had never told anyone.
When I look in the mirror, I see my mother. I see the softness in her eyes and the kindness in her heart. I see her hands, bony and brown, tired, tired of lifting the two baskets. One holds her seven sons, the other all her worries and pain. She too kept a secret, not hers but she had to hold it in to keep us from falling apart, to keep us safe, to let us live.
Two more days, it will be Tết. It will be another Tết that I will not be home. It’s funny I say home when I think of being there, being back, being with Ma and Ba, and the rest of my clan.
I still think about the yellow Mai flowers in the South and the red peach flowers in the North. I still think about the rice cakes, round and square for the moon and the earth. I still think about the pork hocks cooked with bamboo shoots and all the pickles that go with sweet rice.
When I look in the mirror, I see me, and older man, and a child living behind that mask.