Hindsight is more visceral in many ways that we don't realize until so much later.
The memories you have as a child drift in like incense through a temple. At least they do for me. Whenever I smell incense, my family is what I think of the most.
I remember feeling a little scared to see my family each time as a child. We only got to see them every six or seven years, but it seems like no time at all has passed when we do. Like a ball that rolls and comes to rest, we just come together and give it another push.
Thanks for sharing this, Henry. Your aunt sounded like she was a lot tougher than she let on.
Your description of basketball almost as your own language where you and your aunt understood each other best is so beautiful. It reminds me so much of the way my great grandpa found ways to communicate well with others in ways that involved zero spoken words when he moved to the states. Loved this piece!
So good, Henry! I don't mean to trivialize Ban Zhao's or anyone's story about surviving the Cultural Revolution but your revelation of the secrets kept made me think that if there had been a Truth Virus which allowed you to see the past of your aunt--touching her hand during basketball, for example--what withheld memories might you have glimpsed?
You write memoir/ autobiography with a beautiful cadence and rhythm. Autofiction is just one step away. Tell something painful you haven’t managed to touch by giving it a different name, or tell the story of real people in your lives but conflate their identities or drastically change their settings, write alternate happy or tragic endings for them—you know you want to. And I definitely want to read it.
What a wonderful story, Henry. So poignant. It's amazing how your aunt affect you so deeply after just one visit. Talk about connection. She certainly earned her chapter. Thank you so much for sharing this with us.
I feel that my parents have never been that open about sharing stories of their family and they only share if I pry. At times I don’t know how to ask cause I’ve never learned the history.
What a precious and meaningful story. Love, protectiveness and a language while simple, broke into and stayed in your heart and memory. And told so beautifully.
The bu pa through the wall, she knew you might be scared of her and she was trying to take care of you anyway. I keep thinking about that. Thank you for writing this.
Bank Zhao was remarkable. Thank you for this illuminating story. I am in tears, but so proud of you for getting to know her, even as briefly as it was, to have her stick in your mind and your heart.
Hindsight is more visceral in many ways that we don't realize until so much later.
The memories you have as a child drift in like incense through a temple. At least they do for me. Whenever I smell incense, my family is what I think of the most.
I remember feeling a little scared to see my family each time as a child. We only got to see them every six or seven years, but it seems like no time at all has passed when we do. Like a ball that rolls and comes to rest, we just come together and give it another push.
Thanks for sharing this, Henry. Your aunt sounded like she was a lot tougher than she let on.
that incense analog is spot on Vince
Your description of basketball almost as your own language where you and your aunt understood each other best is so beautiful. It reminds me so much of the way my great grandpa found ways to communicate well with others in ways that involved zero spoken words when he moved to the states. Loved this piece!
Thanks Stacy! There is something really beautiful in the way humans can find different ways to communicate when they don’t speak the same language
So good, Henry! I don't mean to trivialize Ban Zhao's or anyone's story about surviving the Cultural Revolution but your revelation of the secrets kept made me think that if there had been a Truth Virus which allowed you to see the past of your aunt--touching her hand during basketball, for example--what withheld memories might you have glimpsed?
I would want to do that for myself as to what memories I have forgotten!
Fertile ground for a short story, sir—can I interest you in a contribution to the Third Face universe?
Oh you think I am a more skillful writer than I actually am!
You write memoir/ autobiography with a beautiful cadence and rhythm. Autofiction is just one step away. Tell something painful you haven’t managed to touch by giving it a different name, or tell the story of real people in your lives but conflate their identities or drastically change their settings, write alternate happy or tragic endings for them—you know you want to. And I definitely want to read it.
Beautiful writing that made this memory of yours come to life for us readers. Thanks for giving us a glimpse of your aunt 🧡
Aw thanks so much Reeze!
What a wonderful story, Henry. So poignant. It's amazing how your aunt affect you so deeply after just one visit. Talk about connection. She certainly earned her chapter. Thank you so much for sharing this with us.
Thanks so much Diane!
This was a great read.
I feel that my parents have never been that open about sharing stories of their family and they only share if I pry. At times I don’t know how to ask cause I’ve never learned the history.
Thank for sharing!
Thanks Ricky! Yeah I think it’s hard for a lot of second generation folks to bring up. I’m lucky to have a natural excuse/avenue to do so
What a precious and meaningful story. Love, protectiveness and a language while simple, broke into and stayed in your heart and memory. And told so beautifully.
Thank you Kelly! Your words always mean a lot :)
Thank you for sharing this, Henry.
You are such a good story teller, I just love your writing 😊 we all have these childhood memories deep in our minds. Thanks for sharing yours.
Thanks Claire for reading and I’m glad it resonated!
This is a great read. Thanks for continuing to share these stories.
Thank you Tyrel!
A well-told story!
What a precious memory. Thank you for sharing
appreciate it Layla!
The bu pa through the wall, she knew you might be scared of her and she was trying to take care of you anyway. I keep thinking about that. Thank you for writing this.
Thanks Yanyu, it’s a moment I will never forget
This really moved me. The way both of you were trying, in different ways, to protect each other really stayed with me. Thank you for writing this.
Thank you Giang!
That was really moving: you really do write with painful honesty.
Thanks so much Clara!
Bank Zhao was remarkable. Thank you for this illuminating story. I am in tears, but so proud of you for getting to know her, even as briefly as it was, to have her stick in your mind and your heart.
Thank you so much Pam, means a lot
I'm sorry I didn't notice at the time that spellcheck automatically changed her name. I apologize for not catching that.
No problem at all!