Photographs and memories

My mother is reorganizing her photo albums. She said she pulled them out to see what resemblance (if any) her grandson has to her sons. She didn't find any. But it's still early. She said we all looked fat in our pictures from way back.

Flipping through the stacks I saw pictures of when we lived in Colorado, pictures of when we lived in Texas visiting the beach, pictures of when we lived in California of our back yard and the kid I used to play with every day, pictures of our moves from one place to another, stopping at national parks and attractions. I also saw pictures of my grandparents when they were younger and my father and mother when they were even younger. I saw pictures of the Winnie the Pooh stuffed teddy bear I couldn't be without, and of my father's Dodge Dart, stylin' by some sand dunes. I remember the sand dunes, but not where they are.

On Sunday we attended a memorial service for Georgia's mom. There, there were more pictures in albums and in two slideshows projected in their family room and in their living room. A Buddhist scripture hung in a frame beside a picture of Auntie Lee. There were pictures of the family in China, in Italy, on a Cruise. There were pictures of the family celebrating birthdays and anniversaries and graduations. I saw uncles and aunts I haven't seen in over a year and their children, some of whom I didn't recognize. We all talked, ate, and caught up with each other, meeting as if for the first time.

Leaving the house, my mom wanted to go to the mall. There, we ran into the I's at Filene's. They had left the Lee's moments before we did. Aunt I said there was nothing to buy and they left. David and I made arrangements to take the Chinatown bus back to New York. We strolled for half and hour before going home.

On the Chinatown bus, David said that there's a Cantonese belief that you're not supposed to go home directly after a funeral or wake. You're supposed to go to a cafe and have tea or go shopping or go somewhere else. And then he realized that's why his mother was so adamant that they go to the mall.

We rode home in the dark. There was no movie on the bus. When we arrived in Chinatown we went to XO Kitchen for congee. David wanted to go home and so we ordered take out. I walked him to the train and he said he'd let me know when Lebron James was playing. He said he'd heat up some of his father's beef noodles and we could watch the game. Posted by eku at February 28, 2005 9:38 AM