Family
Inheriting My Mother’s Body
Twenty years after the not-cancer, my mother died of cancer. Maybe that’s why when they tell me it’s a fibroid I’m so afraid.
Beverly Cleary Taught Me How to Share My Divorce Story
I had tried to show the world that I was resilient, never fallible, but my unwillingness to deal with my sadness and anger was hurting me and my daughter.
Midcentury Modern
I find myself looking at the same memories with new eyes now that you’re gone.
My Mom’s Pandemic Piano Taught Me You Can Always “Find Yourself”
It was the first time I’d ever noticed growth or newness this way: reclaiming, or returning, rather than overhauling and chasing.
When the Squirrels Are Over
Squirrels are violent maters. I thought about that as metaphor, but I’ve already written that kind of essay, that story.
Dear Imo: A Letter from the Korean Diaspora
I made a promise, too, that I would bring her back to you.
We’re in Sasquatch Country Now
How the Bigfoot legend helped me reconcile unanswered questions about my adoption
My Father, the Slingshot Master
For my father, the slingshot seems to offer a moment of creative flight, a brief escape. It isn’t the solution, but it keeps everything balanced.
The Minari of My Memory
That plant in a park in Rhode Island delivered the promise that there might be something familiar in this place where everything was new.
Maximum Dog
Even before the pandemic, we’d stopped having people over to the house. It’s become a doghouse that allows a few humans to stay there.