HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM

After we sang Happy Birthday to Mom, the cake was cut and distributed, I sat and listened to Mom repeating events she has told many times before. I saw no need to tell her that I already heard these stories. I knew someday I would wish I could hear Mom telling these same stories but she would be no longer around. Later, I asked Mom if I could look over her vast collections of photos in albums that are neatly organized and labeled. We had a wonderful time, just the two of us, looking over family photos including those when we first came to New York in 1980 taken with the really cheesy Kodak camera using 110 millimeter film.
(Photo below of cherry blossoms was taken on Saturday, May 2nd during a walk around Bay Ridge neighborbhood.)
Mom giggled while telling me about the black and white photos in her youth, the different poses, especially when she was 17 years old. Mom pointed out who was who in her family and her friends in Viet Nam in each photo. I tried to write down in my notebook as fast as I could without asking Mom to slow down because I did not want to interrupt her thoughts. I marveled at the differences between our lives, from birth, childhood, grew up in Viet Nam then to America, marriages, to the changes in our world that shaped the persons we have become, the cultures that both included opportunities as well as barriers to us a women, where we are and what we will be.
Mom was the only daughter and the youngest child with three older brothers while I was the oldest child with a sister and two brothers. When Mom was born, Viet Nam was part of French Indochina (the federation ended in 1954 after the French surrendered at Dien Bien Phu) while the US escalated its involvement when I came into the world in the 1960s.
(All photos below taken on Wednesday, May 7, 2009 at Brooklyn Botanical Garden.)
(I took the above photo while imagining Mom and I sitting together on the bench in the garden talking and sharing stories.) Mom got married when she turned 20; that was the year I came to America, after escaped from the Communist controlled and also a possible arranged marriage. I got married when I was 28 years old (a really old maid), living in Michigan; at 28, Mom was a mother of 4, living in Cho Lon, Viet Nam.
When we came to America (NYC) in 1980, Mom was 41 years old, having to start her life over, learning a new language and adjusting to a new culture. Would I have the strength to do over at that age, giving up my home, my car, my comfortable living for the chance to live in freedom? I thought of the time when I tried to explain things to Mom, only to find out later that I was wrong. Mom never had a job outside of the family business. She never learned to drive and travel on vacation was a luxury for her generation. I had plenty of opportunities to obtain higher education, working as office professional and making financial decisions without seeking prior approval from anyone. Mom loves to show off her cooking while I love talking about hockey and football.
At 70 years old, Mom still has beautiful and almost flawless skin. She takes pride in her cooking and taking care of her only grandson brings her happiness. What would I be when I am 70 years old? What purpose do I have in life besides my hockey games? Why do we always have regrets and wish we could erase the times when we were disrespectful to our parents or believed that we knew more than they did? I am lucky that I didn't have a daughter who would give me the heartache and half of the headache I caused my parents. Thank you Mom for all the loving you have given me. Happy 70th Birthday!