I know the woman on the left looks like me, but it’s actually not. It’s my aunt. She was born in the year of the Liberation, 1949. If I was about two or three in this family gathering, she would be 39, so seven years older than I am now. You definitely wouldn’t be able to tell when you look at this picture– I guess youthfulness runs in the family.
The thing that jumps out at me the most when I look at this photo, of my grandpa, my grandma, my cousin- and yes, in the same house- is that over the dishes of food and the beibingyang orange soda is how many family secrets there are hidden underneath the food. How many things were not being said. All the stories that existed, but are buried, and in place it, what?