Category: Creative Nonfiction

Midnight came and the beach had light from a cut of moon...

Imagine a 3.5 to 4 year-old kid in North Las Vegas Nevada, 1967 and ’68, trying like hell to figure out the airship, kooky characters…and hey, what’s a diamond…?!

I’d been talking to Salesman John about a sleeper sofa for our newly painted den when a woman slipped into Hip, the name as well as descriptor of a neighborhood furniture store. She was like air whooshing through the door. “Excuse me,” a whispery interruption. “Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me,” a flatlining of fast words.

The woman, spoke to John. She didn’t see me, or chose not to. I could have been an image, a hologram, a statue, pen in one hand, papers in the other, mouth hanging.

But I think of a quote from Joyce Carol Oates, “The sun is setting on another day and I’m covered in loneliness”...

I've initiated the art of flash reading.

...Why did I follow her meekly all the way to Thailand? Why did I allow myself to be dragged here in the first place? As we walked along the dirty sidewalk, I pondered these questions, and unwillingly admitted the answer—because she is my mom. In Chinese culture, filial piety is the prime virtue; as a daughter, I owe my mother unwavering respect, gratitude, and obedience. Resistance would have brought harsh criticism from all sides of the family: “Your mom works so hard for you, and she just wants you to go to a concert with her. You are a person without gratitude…” I wanted to scream, “I don’t want to go!”