Mill village memories Unknown Binding – 1980

One of my best memories of this village is a cemetery. This is the house of the person I love most in my life. My grandmother was buried there. The same can be said for my cousin Aisha. Many aunts and uncles, unknown ancestors and villagers were buried there. The cemetery is small. I remember walking carefully through the cemetery and carefully not to do anything that looks like a grave. Not all graves have tombstones. My brother and I were told that it is not surprising to know that a tomb is built on another grave. One of my uncle said that the grave of the grandma is at the far right. I hugged my brother's hand and carefully walked to the grave of the grandma. My brother and I stood there and prayed. My heart is heavy, and I began to feel tears falling down. Let me hear them. I whispered to my grandmother. She must be listening to what I am saying. I know her grandchild must be very excited to visit her. When I finished my respect, I heard my brother crying.

My father, brothers, and I think that "Americans are too", not only for my mother's taste. My father was from Hong Kong and was once a British colony but my brother and I grew up in one big US city. It is not surprising that three of us do not have knowledge about rural life in China, and my mother always feels lonely. She is accustomed to walking around the shopping center, increasing the vacant space of the house, and securing space for all my father's wanting. My father took it in the van, brought it home and bought something (like a small, hat always the next day she may probably ask you to buy the best). In most cases, she is immersed in seeing things when she is not working.