203 words

Marilyn Evergreen paces the halls of the Midwinter Castle, bored out of her mind. She’s stuck at home until the storm blows over and her grandparents can get home. Some days she kind of hates being a princess. She’ll be a queen in a few weeks. Her grandmother, the current queen, is planning to retire, so Marilyn’s coronation will be right after that.

She’s bored, so naturally she decides to go upstairs to the top floor and look at the royal archives. She studies Political History at university - she’s always wanted to look at the archives. Her grandparents won’t let her, though. Apparently some of the content in there “isn’t suitable for a young lady”. Now, however, she’s twenty-one years old and her grandparents aren’t at the castle. They were on an official royal trip when the storm hit. They’re okay, but they can’t travel back until the weather improves.

When she gets to the top floor, she heads straight for the section about the Three Trials. It’s one of her favourite parts of the country’s history - her great-grandmother, Jasmine Evergreen, fought and won against Beatrice Evergreen, her great-great-aunt. Marilyn’s grandmother brought her up telling her all about the amazing victory which led to her side of the family claiming the throne.

The story goes like this. Jasmine and Beatrice were sisters, separated at birth. Jasmine was older, and Beatrice was a year younger. Jasmine was brought up by her godmother, Amelia, while Beatrice was raised in the Midwinter Castle by their parents to believe that she was the true heir to the throne. When Jasmine came to the castle to claim her birthright, Beatrice refused to believe her and said that she was a usurper.

The king and queen, who had passed away when Jasmine and Beatrice were teenagers, had known that Jasmine was out there being raised away from home, so they had set up the Three Trials so she could prove she was the rightful heir. She succeeded, and because she was a kind and loving sister, she didn’t punish Beatrice for treason. Instead, Beatrice went to live somewhere else, had children, and maybe grandchildren or even great-grandchildren.

Marilyn browses the shelves of the archive, looking for something interesting to keep her occupied. Eventually she hits on something - an old, worn notebook. She pulls it off the shelf, being careful not to damage it, and reads the words scrawled on the front cover. Beatrice Evergreen - a record of the Three Trials. Her eyes widen. This looks incredible. She’s always secretly wondered what Beatrice must have thought of the whole thing - being raised to believe she was the heir and then finding out that she wasn’t.

She opens to the first page. Unfortunately for her, the first few pages are just a whole lot of Beatrice whining that she’s totally the true heir and Jasmine is a nasty liar. Marilyn rolls her eyes at that. To think - she’s the age now that Beatrice would have been then!

Then it starts to get interesting. It clearly holds no weight as a historical record, but it’s really interesting to read.

I’ve been doing some digging, and I think I can prove that Jasmine isn’t who she says she is. I think she is my father’s illegitimate daughter with Amelia. They corresponded about a year before Jasmine was born. That’s not conclusive proof, but I have more. I visited Amelia’s memories-

Marilyn gasps out loud. Memory-seeking spells used to be common historically, she knows, but they’re illegal now in most places, and highly taboo even if they aren’t illegal, since they invade somebody’s privacy so much. Hearing that Beatrice used one only makes Marilyn more wary of this so-called proof.

-and I saw her preparing a love potion and slipping it to my father.

Another gasp. Love potions have always been illegal. This can’t be true. Beatrice has got to be lying.

I can’t prove anything, but I think it’s pretty clear to me that Amelia and my father had a baby, and it would make sense if it were Jasmine. Of course, if she’s an illegitimate child, she legally has no claim to the throne.

Marilyn rolls her eyes at that, because of course it’s not definitive proof. Memory-seeking spells aren’t always completely reliable, and sometimes they mix up legitimate memories with hopes and wishes. Maybe Amelia was in love with the king and thought about enchanting him.

She flicks to the next entry.

I was wrong. She isn’t my father’s child at all. She wrote me a letter, bragging about all of this. I can’t believe her.

The letter is tucked carefully into the pages, and Marilyn takes it out with shaking hands. The first thing she does is she touches it lightly and focuses her intent, casting a spell to find out whether the letter is really from Jasmine, or whether it’s a forgery.

It glows green for a moment before fading; that means it’s real. Marilyn reads it eagerly, wanting to know the truth.

Sister dearest. I’m sure you are wondering what is going on. You’ve doubtless followed a hundred red herrings, loose threads, and dead ends, trying to find the truth of my parentage. Well, the truth is: I am not your sister at all. I am the only daughter of Amelia Scott and her husband, whom I know you’ve come across. You are the eldest daughter of the King and the Queen. Congratulations. Nobody will ever believe you. Love - the new Queen.

Marilyn sets the letter down gently, her mind racing. The spell said the letter was genuine. Why would Jasmine send a letter like that if it wasn’t true? She wouldn’t. Nobody would. That would be insanity. But why hadn’t Beatrice shown it to anybody? Then again - who would she have shown it to?

She keeps reading Beatrice’s record.

She’s so infuriating, I can’t believe this kingdom wants her as queen. That’s not at all what I expected, though. Amelia’s husband… he’s a nasty piece of work. Come to think of it, though, it’s not surprising Jasmine’s his daughter. They’re really quite similar, now I actually think about it. Both awful people.

Marilyn scoffs. Jasmine wasn’t an awful person. That much she knows.

I’m going to lose the trials, I can feel it. The entire kingdom’s against me. Sometimes it feels like the entire world is against me. It probably is. If Jasmine wins, which she will, I don’t want this record to be destroyed. I want somebody to find it again someday. It’ll be too late for me - she’ll have me killed, I don’t doubt.

That’s not true, Marilyn thinks. Jasmine didn’t kill Beatrice. Beatrice voluntarily moved out of the kingdom and was… never heard from again. Oh. That… actually makes quite a lot of sense, now. Jasmine secretly had Beatrice killed. Right.

She’s cheating, the next entry reads. She’s cheating in the trials. The rules said no assistance, and she’s using practically the entire royal guard. I can’t believe her. I’m going to die for sure. It’s my daughter I’m worried about, though. She’s four and I’m scared to death of what’ll happen if Jasmine finds her after I’m dead. So far she’s been living with her godfather (how ironic) but if she gets her hands on my daughter…

That’s the final entry in the record.

Well. That’s pretty definitive proof, Marilyn thinks, that Beatrice was the rightful heir. Jasmine herself admitted it.

Then she remembers - Beatrice has a great-granddaughter, about Marilyn’s age. She’s technically part of the royal family, but she never comes to events. She’ll be at Marilyn’s coronation, though, probably. Perfect.

“Lynny darling!” she hears.

Her grandparents are home.

Tucking the record under her arm, she storms down the stairs, ready to confront them.

“Lynny darling! It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart!” her grandmother says softly, hugging her.

Marilyn pulls away from the hug and glares.

“Did you know that your mother wasn’t the rightful winner of the Three Trials?” she says, her voice icy-cold.

“Lynny darling. Let’s discuss this,” her grandmother says calmly, her voice smooth. “Your great-granny Jasmine was a hero. Her sister Beatrice was a liar and a snake. You know this, sweetheart. I don’t know who’s been telling you what, but it isn’t true.”

Marilyn grinds her teeth. Her grandmother has always been like this, but there’s never been a situation as serious as this before. She pulls out the letter that Jasmine wrote Beatrice, and reads it aloud.

Her grandmother’s face seems to drop as she reads. That’s all the proof Marilyn needs that she knew.

“You knew,” she says. “You knew all these years and you didn’t say anything.”

“Lynny darling, think logically. There was nothing that could have been done. There was no point to revealing the truth then, and there is no point now. So don’t even think about telling anybody.”

“But-”

“No buts, Lynny darling. Now, we need to discuss the small matter of your coronation! It’s in two weeks, after all, and we need you to be perfectly prepared.”

Marilyn allows her grandmother to sweep her away, because it’s easier than arguing.

And soon enough, the day of her coronation arrives. She’s woken up at five o’clock in the morning and taken away to have last-minute alterations made to her dress (she’d rather be wearing a suit), to run through her speech and formal oath one last time (she’d rather read the speech she had written) and inspect the decorations.

Her etiquette teacher from school has for some reason followed her to the castle, and is now reminding her how to waltz, how to curtsey, how to walk down the stairs… it never ends.

At some point, she manages to sneak off. A plan is beginning to form in her mind, and she needs to do just a little bit more research before she can even consider executing it.

At eleven o’clock, Marilyn Evergreen walks down the stairs to the main hall of the Midwinter Castle, running through her plan one last time. It’s traditional for the ascending monarch to make a speech before they are formally crowned, which is perfect. The speech Marilyn’s grandmother gave her is about the Three Trials and their ancestor Jasmine’s bravery and heroism.

The speech Marilyn has written is also about the Three Trials.

She clears her throat and begins, her hands shaking slightly as she holds her notecards.

“Once upon a time, the Three Trials were fought between two sisters, each claiming to be the rightful heir to the throne,” she begins - the traditional beginning of the tale.

“But they were never actually sisters.”

A gasp echoes through the crowd, and Marilyn pauses before continuing. “Jasmine Evergreen was Jasmine Scott-Miller, the daughter of Amelia Scott and her husband. She was never a royal.”

She very carefully does not look at her grandmother.

“Beatrice Evergreen, the true heir to the throne, was killed by Jasmine before she could reveal the truth. Jasmine cheated in the Three Trials to ensure her own success.”

She takes a deep breath. Time for the most important part of this whole plan. She sees Minerva Evergreen in the crowd, looking at Marilyn like she’s her hero. That’s all she needs to give her the courage for this.

“Beatrice Evergreen had a four-year-old daughter, who managed to escape this kingdom and survive. She went on to have children of her own. Her descendants are still alive and well. They are the rightful heirs to this throne,” she says, gesturing at the throne she’s definitely supposed to be sitting on at this point.

“Minerva Evergreen, the great-granddaughter of Beatrice Evergreen, is her eldest living descendant,” she continues. For a moment, she thinks about how that means Minerva’s parents must have died, just like Marilyn’s.

“And therefore Minerva Evergreen is the person who should be being crowned today.”

The crowd goes wild, but Minerva Evergreen is there, looking stunned. And really, that’s all Marilyn needs to know that she’s done the right thing.

Marilyn Evergreen paces the halls of the Midwinter Castle, bored out of her mind. She’s stuck at home until the storm blows over and her grandparents can get home. Some days she really hates being a princess. She’ll be a queen in a few weeks. Her grandmother, the current queen, is planning to retire, so Marilyn’s coronation will be right after that.

She’s bored, so naturally she decides to go upstairs to the top floor and look at the royal archives. She studies Political History at university - she’s always wanted to look at the archives. Her grandparents won’t let her, though. Apparently some of the content in there “isn’t suitable for a young lady”. Now, however, she’s twenty-one years old and her grandparents aren’t at the castle. They were on an official royal trip when the storm hit. They’re okay, but they can’t travel back until the weather improves.

When she gets to the top floor, she heads straight for the section about the Three Trials. It’s one of her favourite parts of the country’s history - her great-grandmother, Jasmine Evergreen, fought and won against Beatrice Evergreen, her great-great-aunt. Marilyn’s grandmother brought her up telling her all about the amazing victory which led to her side of the family claiming the throne.

The story goes like this. Jasmine and Beatrice were sisters, separated at birth. Jasmine was older, and Beatrice was a year younger. Jasmine was brought up by her godmother, Amelia, while Beatrice was raised in the Midwinter Castle by their parents to believe that she was the true heir to the throne. When Jasmine came to the castle to claim her birthright, Beatrice refused to believe her and said that she was a usurper.

The king and queen, who had passed away when Jasmine and Beatrice were teenagers, had known that Jasmine was out there being raised away from home, so they had set up the Three Trials so she could prove she was the rightful heir. She succeeded, and because she was a kind and loving sister, she didn’t punish Beatrice for treason. Instead, Beatrice went to live somewhere else, had children, and maybe grandchildren or even great-grandchildren.

Marilyn browses the shelves of the archive, looking for something interesting to keep her occupied. Eventually she hits on something - an old, worn notebook. She pulls it off the shelf, being careful not to damage it, and reads the words scrawled on the front cover. Beatrice Evergreen - a record of the Three Trials. Her eyes widen. This looks incredible. She’s always secretly wondered what Beatrice must have thought of the whole thing - being raised to believe she was the heir and then finding out that she wasn’t.

She opens to the first page. Unfortunately for her, the first few pages are just a whole lot of Beatrice whining that she’s totally the true heir and Jasmine is a nasty liar. Marilyn rolls her eyes at that. To think - she’s the age now that Beatrice would have been then!

Then it starts to get interesting. It clearly holds no weight as a historical record, but it’s really interesting to read.

I’ve been doing some digging, and I think I can prove that Jasmine isn’t who she says she is. I think she is my father’s illegitimate daughter with Amelia. They corresponded about a year before Jasmine was born. That’s not conclusive proof, but I have more. I visited Amelia’s memories-

Marilyn gasps out loud. Memory-seeking spells used to be common historically, she knows, but they’re illegal now in most places, and highly taboo even if they aren’t illegal, since they invade somebody’s privacy so much. Hearing that Beatrice used one only makes Marilyn more wary of this so-called proof.

-and I saw her preparing a love potion and slipping it to my father.

Another gasp. Love potions have always been illegal. This can’t be true. Beatrice has got to be lying.

I can’t prove anything, but I think it’s pretty clear to me that Amelia and my father had a baby, and it would make sense if it were Jasmine. Of course, if she’s an illegitimate child, she legally has no claim to the throne.

Marilyn rolls her eyes at that, because of course it’s not definitive proof. Memory-seeking spells aren’t always completely reliable, and sometimes they mix up legitimate memories with hopes and wishes. Maybe Amelia was in love with the king and thought about enchanting him.

She flicks to the next entry.

I was wrong. She isn’t my father’s child at all. She wrote me a letter, bragging about all of this. I can’t believe her.

The letter is tucked carefully into the pages, and Marilyn takes it out with shaking hands. The first thing she does is she touches it lightly and focuses her intent, casting a spell to find out whether the letter is really from Jasmine, or whether it’s a forgery.

It glows green for a moment before fading; that means it’s real. Marilyn reads it eagerly, wanting to know the truth.

Sister dearest. I’m sure you are wondering what is going on. You’ve doubtless followed a hundred red herrings, loose threads, and dead ends, trying to find the truth of my parentage. Well, the truth is: I am not your sister at all. I am the only daughter of Amelia Scott and her husband, whom I know you’ve come across. You are the eldest daughter of the King and the Queen. Congratulations. Nobody will ever believe you. Love - the new Queen.

Marilyn sets the letter down gently, her mind racing. The spell said the letter was genuine. Why would Jasmine send a letter like that if it wasn’t true? She wouldn’t. Nobody would. That would be insanity. But why hadn’t Beatrice shown it to anybody? Then again - who would she have shown it to?

She keeps reading Beatrice’s record.

She’s so infuriating, I can’t believe this kingdom wants her as queen. That’s not at all what I expected, though. Amelia’s husband… he’s a nasty piece of work. Come to think of it, though, it’s not surprising Jasmine’s his daughter. They’re really quite similar, now I actually think about it. Both awful people.

Marilyn scoffs. Jasmine wasn’t an awful person. That much she knows.

I’m going to lose the trials, I can feel it. The entire kingdom’s against me. Sometimes it feels like the entire world is against me. It probably is. If Jasmine wins, which she will, I don’t want this record to be destroyed. I want somebody to find it again someday. It’ll be too late for me - she’ll have me killed, I don’t doubt.

That’s not true, Marilyn thinks. Jasmine didn’t kill Beatrice. Beatrice voluntarily moved out of the kingdom and was… never heard from again. Oh. That… actually makes quite a lot of sense, now. Jasmine secretly had Beatrice killed. Right.

She’s cheating, the next entry reads. She’s cheating in the trials. The rules said no assistance, and she’s using practically the entire royal guard. I can’t believe her. I’m going to die for sure. It’s my daughter I’m worried about, though. She’s four and I’m scared to death of what’ll happen if Jasmine finds her after I’m dead. So far she’s been living with her godfather (how ironic) but if she gets her hands on my daughter…

That’s the final entry in the record.

Well. That’s pretty definitive proof, Marilyn thinks, that Beatrice was the rightful heir. Jasmine herself admitted it.

Then she remembers - Beatrice has a great-granddaughter, about Marilyn’s age. She’s technically part of the royal family, but she never comes to events. She’ll be at Marilyn’s coronation, though, probably. Perfect.

“Lynny darling!” she hears.

Her grandparents are home.

Tucking the record under her arm, she storms down the stairs, ready to confront them.

“Lynny darling! It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart!” her grandmother says, hugging her.

Marilyn pulls away from the hug and glares.

“Did you know that your mother wasn’t the rightful winner of the Three Trials?” she says, her voice icy-cold.

“Lynny darling. Let’s discuss this,” her grandmother says calmly, her voice smooth. “Your great-granny Jasmine was a hero. Her sister Beatrice was a liar and a snake. You know this, sweetheart. I don’t know who’s been telling you what, but it isn’t true.”

Marilyn grinds her teeth. Her grandmother has always been like this, but there’s never been a situation as serious as this before. She pulls out the letter that Jasmine wrote Beatrice, and reads it aloud.

Her grandmother’s face seems to drop as she reads. That’s all the proof Marilyn needs that she knew.

“You knew,” she says. “You knew all these years and you didn’t say anything.”

“Lynny darling, think logically. There was nothing that could have been done. There was no point to revealing the truth then, and there is no point now. So don’t even think about telling anybody.”

“But-”

“No buts, Lynny darling. Now, we need to discuss the small matter of your coronation! It’s in two weeks, after all, and we need you to be perfectly prepared.”

Marilyn allows her grandmother to sweep her away, because it’s easier than arguing.

And soon enough, the day of her coronation arrives. She’s woken up at five o’clock in the morning and taken away to have last-minute alterations made to her dress (she’d rather be wearing a suit), to run through her speech and formal oath one last time (she’d rather read the speech she had written) and inspect the decorations.

Her etiquette teacher from school has for some reason followed her to the castle, and is now reminding her how to waltz, how to curtsey, how to walk down the stairs… it never ends.

At some point, she manages to sneak off. A plan is beginning to form in her mind, and she needs to do just a bit more research before she can consider executing it.

At eleven o’clock, Marilyn Evergreen walks down the stairs to the main hall of the Midwinter Castle, running through her plan one last time. It’s traditional for the ascending monarch to make a speech before they are formally crowned, which is perfect. The speech Marilyn’s grandmother gave her is about the Three Trials and their ancestor Jasmine’s bravery and heroism.

The speech Marilyn has written is also about the Three Trials.

She clears her throat and begins, her hands shaking slightly as she holds her notecards.

“Once upon a time, the Three Trials were fought between two sisters, each claiming to be the rightful heir to the throne,” she begins - the traditional beginning of the tale.

“But they were never actually sisters.”

A gasp echoes through the crowd, and Marilyn pauses before continuing. “Jasmine Evergreen was Jasmine Scott-Miller, the daughter of Amelia Scott and her husband. She was never a royal.”

She very carefully does not look at her grandmother.

“Beatrice Evergreen, the true heir to the throne, was killed by Jasmine before she could reveal the truth. Jasmine cheated in the Three Trials to ensure her own success.”

She takes a deep breath. Time for the most important part of this whole plan. She sees Minerva Evergreen in the crowd, looking at Marilyn like she’s her hero. That’s all she needs to give her the courage for this.

“Beatrice Evergreen had a four-year-old daughter, who managed to escape this kingdom and survive. She went on to have children of her own. Her descendants are still alive and well. They are the rightful heirs to this throne,” she says, gesturing at the throne she’s definitely supposed to be sitting on at this point.

“Minerva Evergreen, the great-granddaughter of Beatrice Evergreen, is her eldest living descendant,” she continues. For a moment, she thinks about how that means Minerva’s parents must have died, just like Marilyn’s.

“And therefore Minerva Evergreen is the person who should be being crowned today.”

The crowd goes wild, but Minerva Evergreen is there, looking stunned. And really, that’s all Marilyn needs to know that she’s done the right thing.

“I heard she’s totally insane-”

“Oh my gosh, did you see the fight outside-”

“I hope she gets arrested! That poor kid-”

“Hey, hey! Break it up now-”

“Guys, I saw everything. She’s a total psycho-”

“Fighting will not be tolerated at this school-”

“I heard the other kid insulted her mom and she just went totally nuts-”

“I miss you, mommy-”

“Honey, your mom is going to have to stay in hospital for a while-”

“She’s freaking insane, seriously-”

“Did you see the blood? Like, the other kid’s nose was actually really badly bleeding-”

“Hi sweetheart! I’m Aimee and I’ll be taking care of your mom, okay-”

“Your mom was so sick of your ugly personality that she ran away-”

“Sweetie, don’t worry about me, okay-”

“She was crying though! Like I saw her after the fight and tears were just streaming down her face-”

“Mommy, are you going to die-”

“I bet your mom was so tired of you that she killed herself-”

“She’s actually sick in the head, you know. Like she’s dangerously violent-”

“It was just some harmless ‘your mom’ jokes, she didn’t have to go all psycho-”

“Don’t you ever speak about my mom like that-”

“Mommy, I miss you-”

“Honey, I’m so sorry, but your mom passed away in the night. If it’s any consolation, she wasn’t in pain-”

“Yeah, she’s just totally freaking insane-”

“Mommy, I miss you-”

SWC Writing Competition Entry
The New Lens of Life

Honestly, I’m pretty surprised I entered on time- last time I didn’t even try, as I knew I would procrastinate! But I just had to get this story out, and I knew I had to enter it. It’s about a girl, May, traveling across the world from America to Hong Kong for a few weeks. I wanted to challenge myself, so I wrote it lyrically, after reading Golden Girl by Reem Faruqi (it’s an awesome book, you should totally check it out!).
In Hong Kong, she learns that her great-grandmother, her Tai-Po (maternal great-grandmother in Cantonese) passed away. Her family travels back to America for the funeral, and they clean and sort out her Tai-Po’s belongings, and her Poh-Poh (maternal grandmother) gives May her great-grandmother’s camera. Not knowing what to do with it, she takes a few photos, and she ends up taking photos every day, and wayyy in the future, when she’s a world-renowned photographer, she still remembers every day when she takes pictures that her Tai-Po was the one to get her started on her journey.
This story is very relatable to me in many ways- my great-grandmother (I call her my Bak-Bak) loved to crochet and knit, and every time (well, not every single time, but often enough) I pick up a hook or needle, I think of her. My grandma (I do call her my Poh-Poh!!) did hand down some of her supplies to me, as I was the only family member who could actually do something with it lol!
I also visited Hong Kong when I was young (before the pandemic), just like May in this story. I LOVED the egg waffles. And it was also really nice to see my other side of the family that only lives in China, as well as see where my Yeh-Yeh and Ma-Ma (paternal grandfather and grandmother (it’s not always Ma-Ma, you can also call your grandmother Nai-Nai)) and Gung-Gung and Poh-Poh (maternal grandfather and grandmother) used to live.
But unlike May, my Bak-Bak did not die while I was in Hong Kong, rather she died while we were all still in the US. But anyway, I hope this story is relatable and that you enjoy it. Enjoy (and enjoy some complementary virtual egg waffles! Don’t worry- if you’re allergic, you can’t get sick ;))!

Notes:

Nai wong bao is also known as a steamed custard bun. At dim sum places, there’s usually the drippy kind (watch out, as the drip is usually unexpected and super-hot, believe me, and it's also called lava, or molten lava bao), but at some places, there’s the stiffer kind which my Poh-Poh, my grandma, makes all the time!
Jook is a sort of porridge-like mixture with a watery soup and rice. My grandpa makes this super yummy! It’s also very plain, so we have it whenever we’re sick, or in the case of this story, distraught.
There isn’t a gondola ride at Victoria Peak, it’s actually based off of my family’s trip to Hong Kong’s Ngong Ping 360 Gondola ride, but since May only got to spend a few days in Hong Kong, I didn’t get to fit it in as much as I would’ve liked to in the abridged version.
The spoken parts and Cantonese words are italicized, and the meanings for the Cantonese words are usually here or in the description above ^^
My family actually did go to the Symphony of Lights show that they have every week or so, but funny story, I was actually REALLY fatigued during it (and almost fainted), so I didn’t get to enjoy it as much as May did in this story. It was really nice though, and it reminded me of New Year’s Eve traditions that some cities do.
Also, at Ngong Ping 360, we didn’t drink milk tea, we ate something else, but it was cold, and sweet. I did my research and got to the website, but for some reason they don’t post the menus? Idk, all I know is that it was delicious :DD

Day 1

We touch down
And after first class
and business
and another half of the
economy-class passengers
it’s finally
our turn
to step out of the plane
into a whole other
world
then when we first boarded
the stuffy plane
in the pitch-dark morning.

The airport is
so.
Much.
Bigger.
Than the
San Francisco Airport,
the one I’ve only ever been in
once.
It’s full of greenery
of small shops
with little prices
and souvenirs for the people
like us
only touring
and maybe
not coming back.

I feel like it’s a dream
until
we step out of the airport.
It’s stuffy,
humid,
hot.
Suffocating.
Somehow, the air feels different.

We take a taxi to our hotel,
but it doesn’t stop at our hotel.
It stops
on the side of the road,
To explore, maybe,
but after walking around,
maybe it was to make us
lost.

We were lost for
a long time,
-or at least it felt like it-
until we found reception
at McDonald’s.
McDonald’s, of all places.
We finally stop to eat
because we forgot to eat
at the airport
where there was a McDonald’s
anyway.
And it turns out that we were just walking
in circles
2 blocks away from our hotel.
Shiny glass windows and a glass elevator
grace the tall building.
And when we go up,
I feel like I can see the whole wide world.
Or at least all of Hong Kong.

We finally get to
unpack and
relax.
Until we meet a relative,
but for such a short time,
I don’t
even catch his name.
We explore the room after
the long naps
and iricate unpacking techniques
that Yeh-Yeh teaches us to do,
and that my mom
proudly adops.
Packing cubes, only shirts! they yell.
I like being organized on my own time,
but I wish I didn’t have to fold the clothes
so
very
perfectly.

The bathroom has heated
floors,
toilet seats,
and of course,
heated
perfectly warm
water.
I always wonder how they do that,
the perfect origami of folding sheets on your beds,
like a ninja when you’re away,
the perfect temperature of water,
unlimited ice cubes
from the machine in the corridors.

When I think of the perfectness
of the hotel
I think about
not
going home.
I think about, maybe, just possibly,
living in this perfect paradise
forever.
With unlimited fresh water
(that my dad keeps asking for.
Is it not embarrassing for him?)
because the water
is “unclean”.

Day 2

We skipped dinner last night
not because there wasn’t a sufficient meal
that the hotel,
or restaurants in Hong Kong
could provide,
but because
we were fast asleep.
Jet lagged,
dropped dead to the
perfectly
fluffy
pillows and bedsheets.
To think, before we even perfectly packed
our clothes away!

But today
we finally ate some
-at least a little bit-
authentic Hong Kong street food.
85° Bakery was a delight back in California,
but Dad found one around the corner
and we just knew
we had to eat it
here.

For lunch, we went to eat out with relatives
at a fancy dim sum restaurant
full of delicious Chinese delicacies
and the most delicious nai wong bao.
They laughed
and joked
and asked how we were doing
in America
and what we were going to do
in Hong Kong.

After lunch, we toured
and walked around for a bit
until our feet hurt
and then we went back to the hotel
but not after we ate
a snack
of egglettes.

We rested
by putting on the television.
We didn’t have TV in California,
and we didn’t want to
but we could watch TV
on trips
with unlimited freedom.


For dinner, we went out to eat again.
Our first time on the HK subway!
It was so
much
cleaner
than BART back home.
And I realized
that I had good balance
because I could stand
in the train,
without holding
anything
but
air.
Maybe,
I also learned that
maybe
the Hong Kong air
wasn’t suffocating,
but that it was
full of trapped
possibilities.

Day 4

Yesterday
we rested, walking to
shops and restaurants and the library.
(with water dripping
-it’s the AC moisture dripping, says Nai-Nai-
onto the streets- and in our hair)

Today we’re going to go to
Hong Kong Disneyland!
There’s even
a special train
on the subway
for the Disneyland
visitors.
I felt so special,
holding the swinging handles
boasting the iconic
Mickey Mouse ears.

I can see that the lines are much, much shorter
when we first went to
the California Disneyland
the “original” that was always
packed.
There’s a dim sum place
and we sit on a couch
waiting,
in a Disney restaurant!

Some lines aren’t even boasting
a second of waiting,
the fresh smell of rain on the coming clouds,
and the gleeful shouts of
a moment of
carefreeness.

The rest of the trip went by in a blur-
rides ridden over and over again,
exploring the Disney world, all till night time,
where we had too-sugary donuts
of og Disney characters
like Donald Duck
Mickey Mouse
Minnie Mouse
Daisy Duck
Pluto
Goofy
and all the rest.
When we went out of the bakery,
there was the daily light show
I knew they did it often
but somehow, it felt like the right moment
to round off our adventure
to Hong Kong Disneyland,
but also, to Day #4.

Day 5

We were only going
to stay in Hong Kong
for 2 weeks.
I guess I was skeptical.
It’s a whole new country,
a whole other place
than America will ever be.
But at least
now I’m a bit more used to Hong Kong
then I was on day one.

We’re going to Victoria Peak!
It’s the tallest point in HK, if I remember correctly.
There’ll be games
places to eat…
and a million
new things
to experience.

We used the longest escalators
in the WORLD.
I was scared… but at the same time
excited.
After the long Hong Kong escalators
(haha, see the rhyme?),
we walked.
And after awhile in the cold,
humid,
rainy
streets,
we finally made our way
to the famous
Victoria Peak.

We took the gondolas from there
glass-bottomed, but was it worth it?
We waited 3 hours for this, my dad insisted
at the front of the line.
We were
hot
sweaty
tired
and at this point, not willing to wait
even for the spectacular view.

When we got there, we were exhausted
tired
and craving for food
and luckily
there was pizza!
Who would have thought,
to put a pizza place
on top of such an
iconic
Asian
place?
Not me, that’s for sure.

After walking around, we found
a 3d immersive experience place,
where they take
2d pictures
and make it seem
3d.
But my sister ended up
sick
so only a few of us
could actually go
while they tried to find
a seat
that could maybe
save
her from puking.
Again.

I was thrilled to make some photos
and to have some alone time
-well, alone time-ish.
We posed and practiced
and came up with a few good ones,
and finally stopped
at the end
after the workers
had us do special
poses
with special
props.

When we finally finished
we walked outside
to bump into
my mom
my sister
my grandparents.
They’d been waiting right around the corner
and they were checking if we
were even close
to done.

It was a bit late then
but it was a quick decision
to drink the cold, freshly-made milk tea.

After snack, we boarded the cable cars again
and walked to the subway
and from there, to the roast goose place
but apparently,
they had
the LONGEST line.

It is OK, Dad said.
We ended up waiting at a McDonald’s
(again- why, just why?)
and got the most
refreshing drinks
while waiting for our name chop
and supposedly,
“The most delicious roast goose.”

Day 6

I wake up to
hushed voices
and my sister in the bunk below me
shifting in bed.
I groggily climb down,
expecting Dad and Mom,
and maybe,
Yeh-Yeh and Nai-Nai
talking at the table
in the spotless kitchen,
but instead, I see the door
to my parents room
swinging open.

We have to go back, my mom insists, whispering.
How could we? Nai-Nai replies, We’re meant to stay here
for another
week, to see our relatives
where I used to live
where your parents used to live.
We’re leaving. You know this is a big deal, my dad gently whispers.
Fine. But know that William and I will stay here, says Nai-Nai,
losing her patience altogether,
now speaking in a jumble
of Cantonese and English.
Stay where? What happened? I storm into the room.

What weren't they telling me,
and why were the suitcases
on the floor
open-faced on the bed
clothes, scattered everywhere?
We have to leave, says my mom through tears.
Your great-grandmother died.

Day 8

The last few days went by
in a flash of sorrow,
leaving our grandparents at the gate,
good-bye’s traded in a rush,
the long
silent
plane ride
home.

The suitcases, left open
flopped open in our bedrooms,
full of souvenirs, partially-washed clothes
and the now-distant memories of Hong Kong.

Today, I finally managed to pick up this
journal of sorts
and write.
I’m not in HK anymore, instead going on,
dully walking through my boring California life.

It would've been less sad if we weren’t in HK,
I think.
It would’ve been less sad if my mom wasn’t so…attached?
It would’ve been less sad if my grandparents had come…
less sad if a family member simply hadn’t died.

We're going to clean up my Tai-Po's house,
salvaging what we can,
and cleaning the rest,
preparing to sell
the house that she's lived in
almost her whole life,
or at least, her life in America.

Day 15

It's been a whole week
since I've last written
we went to the funeral today,
reflected on our times together
and ate the sugar candy they give every child
at a Chinese funeral.

We're deep cleaning the house today-
who knows what we're going to find in the attic?
Recently I've had dreams of sifting through
old polaroid photos
fallen from an overstuffed box,
smiling faces staring back at me.
We climb up to the attic,
and when I see
the dampened light
streaming through the small window,
I cry.

I was excused from cleaning, of course.
My Poh-Poh stares out the window,
her poise and stature no longer strict and perfect.
I gently sit next to her, swiping at my eyes,
offering her some warm jook, left over from
the family dinner
that happens
every
Sunday.

She's looking at
an old camera
dust layering the top,
and she hands it to me as she finally speaks.
You've always had an observant mind
you are so much like her, when she was young, Poh-Poh sighs.
How do you know? You didn't know her back then, I ask through tears.
The stories your Gung-Gung would suffice, she replies.
Even though I'm not your Tai-Po's child, she did…
so much for me
that I could never repay.
She helped me raise your mother
and her siblings…
she trails off.
Keep the camera, May.
It will help you look through the lens
and where you can make a world
at least look
better.
Where you can
see a world that isn't broken
but instead, a masterpiece.

Day…I don't know now, 10000+?

I haven't written in 20 years.
Looking back, I wonder if
-why-
I wrote this journal
lyrically.
And why
I passed from
past and
present
tense.

It's honestly so weird, to look back to
when my Tai-Po died,
when really, she made my life whole.
She helped me become who I am today,
a proud Chinese-American
photographer,
mother,
wife,
artist.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
and an old camera to
a new lens
of life.

Blue's March 2022 SWC Bread Crumbs

Follow the bread crumbs and you'll find my main thread! Wow! I promise I absolutely will not be recreating Hansel and Gretel. I swear. I am not a candy witch in the forest. Yet.

>> Blue's March 2022 SWC Content Log <<