Love, Ash

 I can confidently say that I am not an easy crier compared to my mom and my sister. It’s not excessive or anything. They cried during occasions that any other person would. Weddings, funerals, high school graduation, when our pets passed away, dance performances (cough Ang cough), when Macaulay Culkin died in My Girl, father-daughter dances, when I fell with the shopping cart at Star Market, and my college graduations. You know? Normal stuff. 

Dropping me off at the airport is a pretty hard moment for them. It always has been ever since 2005 when I started college. I don’t blame them. It’s hard on my heart as well. I usually hug my mom and sister while reassuring them that I’ll take care of myself and that I’ll see them again soon. My mom tears on the spot. My sister waits until she’s in the car. My tears don’t come out until the plane departs. Where my family can’t see me. Where no one knows me. Where I can secretly tuck away this sad moment of acceptance.  

When I cry my family reacts like all the time in the world stopped and that they only had a short window to witness this moment. It’s nothing miraculous. I’m a pretty ugly crier, but they soak in the moment anyway as if they saw Halley’s Comet. 

Recently the tables have turned. I’m currently treading in this puddle of exploration and my mom and my sister have been my rock through it all. I’ve been vulnerable, frustrated, blunt, and appreciative all at the same time and they have expressed nothing less than love, encouragement, and positivity in every phone conversation and text message. 

Mom and Ang, you both are extraordinary. A lot of who I am and everything I achieved is because of you. Love, Ash/Leng/Bat-tit 

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