I learned about the curse on my father shortly after he died.
I stood on a familiar street corner during this morning’s rush hour as the crosswalk signals flipped green
During our visit to the U.S. back in June, Ulrich and I took the opportunity to visit two cemeteries: one in Maryland where my father is buried, and the other in New York where Amy is buried.
“That’s so un-Taiwanese,” my sister said, shaking her head and sticking her tongue out. My cheeks quivered as I smiled back; I hoped she hadn’t seen me wince through the grainy façade of our video call.
Two weeks ago I changed my violin’s E string for the first time since Dad died.