I couldn’t help but miss the fact when I was younger, I was in the most need of nurture and care. However, as I got older — slowly catching new, darker nuances of life — I was often reminded of how my mother is still a daughter. 

When the phone rings, regardless if it’s a spam call, a friend or for work, her footsteps thunder through the hallway to answer it because, for all she knows, it could be her mother or her mother-in-law. Her mother, who lives alone in a small apartment in Taipei, who walks fast the same way my mom does, who waves her hands around when something makes her nervous. Her mother-in-law, who lives alone in a Los Angeles home too big for one person, whose leg pain prevents her from taking on as many of the grand adventures she used to tell me about, who has leaky shower issues and ant trails that she doesn’t know how to fix.

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(1) comment

craigwiesner

Thank you Naomi for this lovely column and a reminder, for me, of what it used to feel like to get a call from any of our parents, all of whom we've now lost and miss.

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