My Mother on Daughters and Marriage.

"I only have two daughters. And you don't even live in the same state."
"Mom, you'll still see her. She'll come see you."
"It won't be the same. She'll just 'tuaj.' She won't 'los' anymore. It'll be different."

In the Hmong language, 'tuaj' means to 'come over; visit.' 'Tuaj' expresses a temporary kind of coming. 'Los' means to 'come home; return to.'

I never realized the complexity of these words until my mother explained them to me. All these years, I've been using them interchangeably. My cheeks burned with shame. When she shared how empty her heart would be once my sister got married, I wondered if I could ever love anybody as much as my mother loves my sister and me.

I have yet to fully understand the bond between a mother and her daughter. It's more than just giving birth to her and providing basic needs, right?

My mother's words: You invest twenty-some years into a life for them to walk away and start their own lives with other people. You know from the start that's what will happen--that they'll leave you yet you do it anyway. You just can't stop yourself from loving them. You just can't stop loving them.

"Then I'll never get married so I can always tell you that I will 'los' home."
"What are you talking about?! I didn't raise you to be forever alone!"

Oh. This is my mother, friends.

On the +1.

My sister's getting married next weekend. And even though she's so swamped with last-minute wedding details, one of the things on her mind is whether or not I'll have a plus one. She's so sweet.

Sister: We're not going to have a bridal party table. It's just going to be me and R at a table together.
Me: OK.
Sister: Are you OK with that?
Me: Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?
Sister: Whew. That's a relief.
Me: How come?
Sister: I don't know. I didn't want you to feel weird if you didn't have a plus one.
Me: What? Why wouldn't I...Why!??! WHAT?!
Sister: I don't know. WILL YOU HAVE ONE?
Me: ...I don't know...Maybe?...No.
Sister: See??? I just don't want you to feel like that "forever alone" guy.
Me: I just...didn't think I'd need a plus one since I'm in the bridal party. I'm going to be too busy running around, and saying hi to everybody.
Sister: Okay, sure, but you're more than welcome to invite your girl-friends just in case you don't want to be that "forever alone" guy.

Bless her heart.

If anybody asks why I don't have a plus one, I will simply say that not having one makes it easier for me to hit on (and be hit on) by guys. Granted, I'll know most of the people in attendance, but geez--can't I live?!!?

On the Antagonist.

I was a few steps behind him, keeping my thoughts to myself when he interrupted them: "You don't ever have to see or speak to me again. I'd understand." 

I don't understand why people say things like that. If I don't ever see or speak to you again, I'd expect you to understand. I don't need confirmation of your abilities. However, regardless of what I can or cannot understand, I've learned he hates when I don't give him some kind of response. So I nodded, not in agreement but for acknowledgement. My fingers found his and hooked on securely. He squeezed my fingers. 

"Please, don't write about this." We laughed in unison. 
"You know, it's funny you mention it. I wanted to ask you if I could write about you! Why can't I?" 
"Fuck you! Damn you! You just can't write about it! I'm not just another fucking story!"

With that, I let go of his fingers. 

It's not the first time I've heard it. It's unfortunate to know that they see themselves as stories. Or maybe it's more unfortunate that I only see the experiences as stories to be rewritten, retold, and shared for my own benefit. They all feed my insatiable need to write. They are just another antagonist to my protagonist. Another chapter to be written. Another conflict to be resolved. Another theme to be explored. None of them have ever been introduced as heroes. 

"Fine! Whatever! Do what you want."

I said good bye to him but because of my horrible timing, got stuck at the crosswalk. How convenient: I couldn't stomp off in my true dramatic style. I must've looked pathetic. I felt him nearing me. 

"I just want to give you a proper goodbye. You know, a hug." Like, what normal people who are attracted to one another do, right? I didn't resist his embrace but I didn't accept it either. I stood there while he held me, which was surprisingly longer than our usual embraces.

"Good night X."