American Poem
The city sleeps, but I am wide awake, thoughts bursting through my head.
Stories swirl, whirl, twirl,
Because my mother just kissed me goodnight,
And when I look up at her face in awe
I realize that everyone has a story.
You may not be able to tell by their language or by the way they present themselves,
That Everyone. Has. A. Story.
One may be similar to my mother’s story,
A Vietnamese refugee who escaped Vietnam with only
Her family recipes,
And her immediate family of 5.
You can’t tell by my mom’s scars or her faint smile,
That her father fought in the war,
Or that her mother one day kissed her goodnight,
Only to spend the next day in a hospital room with cancer.
You. Can’t. Tell.
As I reflect on all of this,
I can almost smell the faint Chanel Number 5 perfume
Lingering around the room.
I smell the perfume my mother wears everyday
As her mother did.
I smell my grandmother
and see a faint image of the stories my mom always told me about her
They start to appear in my head.
I think about my grandmother’s quick escape from Vietnam
Fleeing in the middle of the night Grabbing her bottle of Chanel number 5
The bottle that ông ngoại (my grandfather) had given her when he was training as a
pilot in the
America.
Perhaps that small Chanel bottle was a symbol of hope,
That one day, her life would be normal
She wouldn’t have to run from bombs, she would attend parties.
You. Can’t. Tell.
As my eyes get heavy and my eyelashes land softly,
I think of a compelling question,
A phrase my humanities teacher taught me.
A wonder.
“What happened after they got to America?”
That was a question that I have repeatedly asked my mom.
Every time getting a new answer.
Some of these answers are how they settled down in Louisiana in a small town.
Being the only Vietnamese family,
Their neighbors would throw glass into the garden,
Just so they couldn’t step on it without bleeding out.
You. Can’t. Tell.
Thankfully My Grandmother had a superpower.
Bringing. People. Together.
She did this by working at a grocery store and getting ingredients
To make her family spring rolls and give them to her neighbors
With her famous motto, “Roll Forward, Always Forward”
And POOF the neighbors gave her family peace.
And she inspired.
She did this by becoming one of the first Vietnamese American teachers in Louisiana,
A mentor, and a second mother to her students.
She connected people over the years,
And at her funeral, over 3,000 people came.
If my grandmother, along with millions of other immigrants,
Had never come to America,
Then who would share
Their recipes?
Their stories?
Their hope?
My grandmother has passed down all this to her family,
Like yours,
Which is continuing to grow.
Kind of like America, growing every day with new faces and stories.
If we allow it.