At first it was just my mommy and me
My mom, I call her mẹ
A heavily pronounced “men” without the “n”
When I was born, my father was not there
I’m sure my mom cried —
happiness, loneliness, all tightly wrapped up in tiny little pink bundle
He was in San Jose, my mom in Pittsburgh
California, not Pennsylvania
I later found out from reading my birth certificate
I was actually born in Martinez, not Pittsburgh
I took my mom’s last name — Doan,
and as my father was not physically present,
neither was he present on paper — his name is not on my birth certificate
Pretty peculiar for as long as I can remember I’ve gone by my father’s last name — Hoang
In Vietnamese tradition
But I did not ask I was a quiet and polite child
and children did not ask about about the past
and with hands folded
I learned that we were also not supposed to ask about the future
even our own
for their future was unclear and mine was set in stone
Not a single mother, but an alone mother
Not knowing new norms nor language
She continued to navigate her way through migration
She strapped me to her back, walked and took the bus all over town
Subsisted on $500 a month of government assistance
Most of which went to shelter, the rest for food
One month she was mugged and ate instant noodles for the remainder of the month
Maybe that’s why I like them so much — the smell bringing back hidden imprints of tough yet happy times — my brain still forming
He eventually returned her purse to her sans money
Left it at her front door, an ironic act of kindness
She tells this story often and I often wonder what part of it really resonates with her
Twenty-five, still young at heart — even after being driven from her country and having to grow up so fast
She believed America stood for freedom, democracy – a place where books would never burn
She felt lucky to have been rescued by an American ship, given opportunities of the American Dream
In some ways, she is more American than me
Had she known she’d end up in America someday maybe she would have taken English instead of French
But she chose French, because she is a hopeless romantic
and had the luxury of being one at the time