On Easter Day, my mom walked up to me as I sat on the couch and asked if she could pray for me. She sat down and took both my hands in hers, holding as tightly as possible. As soon as she started praying, I burst into tears, sobbing violently through the entire prayer. My dog, Sadie, who had been wandering and playing on her own, suddenly stopped what she was doing and jumped right into my lap. She sat still in my lap and patiently listened to us—my mom’s prayer and my sobbing—as if she knew how important that moment was for me. She lowered her head as if to tell me, “I’m here too, Sharon. We love you.”
When my last boyfriend and I broke up, I asked my cousin to tell me “Love is…” stories about her and her husband that would keep me hopeful. It’s been nearly two years and she still does this for me out of the blue. This morning I woke up to another one. Reading it and re-reading makes me laugh and cry every time:
Random true love thought: At the end of a long day, when we’re finally at home together, we get derpy with each other (to borrow the internet term for mentally handicapped behavior). We talk in baby speak and climb all over each other like we’re blind puppies.
And before I met him, I knew with utmost certainty in my heart that deep, life-long love happened to other people and only rarely and that it would never ever happen to me.
So yaknow. Don’t lose hope. Also, can you make our party? I sent you a facebook invite thing.
Even though this is supposed to make me hopeful (which it does) for the love I will have and give to the future lucky man, I can’t help but be overwhelmed with the love I already have in my life from my family and friends.
Dying of cuteness overload thanks to an e-mail from my mom:
Hi Sharon,
Me and saddi just got home from pet grooming shop. I took her to there this morning. Now just pick her up from there. I just send her picture to you, can you see, she is clean and beauty and smell so good.
Love,
Keli and sddi
Sent from my iPad
My dog’s name is spelled “Sadie.” Asian mom spelling errors = swoon.
Another version of a similar shot from the same roll, but I like that I can look at this version when I’m missing my mom and feel like she’s talking to me. (I also like that my dog looks like she’s entranced in some Chinese TV show my parents probably had on at the time. Makes me giggle every time.) I love my mom so much, sometimes if I think about it too hard, I’ll start to tear up. Like right now.
This little boy was so cute and endearing—the way he’d constantly turn around to face his mom to smile and gaze lovingly into her eyes. Then as he turned back around to lay against her chest, she’d wrap her arms around tightly him, and rest her chin lightly on top of his head. I couldn’t help but sneak in a shot.
My mom says my hormones are telling me something.
For weeks, I have been jotting down ideas with the intention of planning an elaborate, decadent Valentine’s Day date for (pause for dramatic effect) myself. Listed among my notes: a nighttime visit to the Griffith Observatory, finding the best ice cream in LA and downright gorging myself… Actually, that’s all I managed to come up with, because ultimately I settled on the simplest and best idea—quite possibly—ever. Come tomorrow night, I will drive home to my parents’ house after work and treat them out to a delicious Chinese meal (as we Rowland Heights folk are known for). I called my mom a few nights ago with this idea, knowing full well my Asian dad would not have any plans in mind for her, let alone even remember it will soon be the day for love. (The surprise is that I will walk in the door with flowers in hand for my mom, and after dinner, when the check comes, I will be the one paying.) The first thing she asked was, “Don’t you want to spend it with your 情人?” (“Qing ren,” or, Chinese for “loved one.”)
My response: “You guys are my 情人.”
This Valentine’s Day, spend it with someone you love.
Life has presented an exciting opportunity to me that may significantly change my plans for the next year or so. I cried to my mom for 45 minutes on the phone tonight because I’m constantly changing my mind about things and I hate that about myself. Everything I considered a fault of mine (being fickle, being easily bored, etc.), she came firing back with a rebuttal. According to her, being fickle is nothing more than a combination of wanting to do it all and adjusting oneself to the natural ripples of an inconstant life. And being easily bored is simply a drive for learning new things. Taking it day by day the next month or so, but I kind of know in my heart the decision I need to make. She wants me to take this path as well. I said to her, “Are you just saying this because you’re my mom?” She said, “No, I’m saying this because I’m your friend. If I was a typical Asian mom, I would have yelled at you a long time ago for wanting to do the things you do.” She’s an angel. Always positive, always praying for me, always loving me. Even when I’m being a handful. Especially when I’m being a handful. She makes me feel like I did alright.
