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