I was standing outside with my roomie and her boyfriend, talking about Constance Wu’s fake accent for Fresh Off The Boat, when Buddhist auntie called me into her apartment. Buddhist auntie made vegetarian bánh xèo and wanted me to eat. Being as shameless as I am, I inhaled one then asked to save the second for later. Plans for the weekend came up and she asked if I wanted to go to temple with her. I said yes. I’m not religious and probably never will be, but I don’t often turn down invitations to things and she had just fed me after the Best Meeting of My Life, so… I take the signs as they come.
Sunday morning I went over to her apartment and she offered me corn. Catholic auntie caught me coming in and out and called me over to give me half an egg sandwich. At this point, the two are in a battle for my love via food and I don’t mind it. I sat around with Buddhist auntie and listened to her talk about family. My Vietnamese is still rough, so I would say I got about 90% of the conversation. At one point she told me her mom died when she was nine and then, suddenly, she was crying. It was quiet. The kind of quiet pain you keep buried until one day you mention it to some 24-year-old Vietnamese American transplant from North Carolina and it all surfaces. I told her I would listen to anything she wanted to share. We watched a cooking show and changed the subject.
Two younger Vietnamese aunties came to pick us up. They were impressed by how young I was to be attending temple. I told them my family is Catholic, but I probably lean more towards Buddhist beliefs. This became a talking point for everyone they introduced me to, like, “Her family has been Catholic for generations and she’s the first one to go Buddhist!” I let them say it because it made them happy. We temple-hopped and at the second temple, where I was able to get some alone time, I sat in front of a giant Buddhist statue and recited the Catholic prayers I grew up on. Sacrilegious or not, I figure it’s the sentiment that counts.
I prayed to my grandmother, mostly. Perhaps to God or Buddha or whoever else might have been listening. I prayed for my family again. I prayed for health. I prayed for fucking world peace, Jesus, I really did. I prayed for love. And I said out loud:
“Thank you.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
A STOR¥ BY ? 