Essays

“I am from cherry blossom. From áo dài and communion gown.” I have worn the áo dài, the traditional Vietnamese gown, for as long as I can remember, and have always been intrigued by it.

Ghosts become memory dwellers for my mother who remembers all the ghosts from her life as a former, perhaps even forgotten, Vietnamese citizen.

French writer Linda Le passed on May 9, at the age of 58 years old.

“Mit gas,” I said again. I looked at my partner quizzically. “What’s ‘mit gas?’” I asked in Vietnamese. “What does ‘mit’ mean?”

It is interesting to note, when reviewing history, what is left out and by whom.

I imagine my mother standing on the street side of Saigon, laughing, and smiling, with a cigarette in her mouth.