'Kan', she said. 'Laohu'. She put her hands down on the table and let go.
At my request, Mom also made a goat, a deer, and a water buffalo out of wrapping paper. They would run around the living room while Laohu chased after them, growling
'We are not other families.' I looked at him . Other families don't have Moms who don't belong.
Dad and I stood, one on each side of Mom, lying on the hospital bed.
Dad came back, and I said that I needed to get to the airport early because I didn't want to miss my flight.
She died when my plane was somewhere over Nevada.
I had never learned to read Chinese, but I knew the characters for son, and they were at the top, where you'd expect them in a letter addressed to you, written in Mom's awkward, childish handwriting.
Son....
A young woman agreed to help. We sat down on a bench together, and she read the letter to me aloud.
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