Seeing my mom and tais at aunt’s 60th bday
When I see my mom and tais* chatting softly
at a gaudy pink plastic wrapped table
I see that there are three generations of Hmong women
in a passing moment of time.
Looking at my evolutions.
Seeing life morph the body and mind.
It made me feel insignificant, part of a larger pattern.
And then I noticed how tacky the party decorations were.
*tais — maternal grandmother in hmong