merry every day to mothers

I'd like to dedicate this entry to Dominique, a Bulgarian mother who visited the city, a.k.a. Manhattan.
I was lucky to meet her. She cooked a very nice traditional meal on Christmas Eve. The meal was purely vegetarian and fully flavored with the vegetables and herbs. After the meal, we had a traditional bread, eating in a traditional way: The eldest breaks the bread into a number of pieces. The number is decided by how many people in the family. Pieces are distributed in an order according to age.
There is a coin in the bread. The person who finds the coin in his/her piece will have great luck in the new year.

There were four people in the dinner. The bread was huge. We decided to break only half of it. The other half was stored high up close to the ceiling, for a reason that Dominique does not know but follows her mother's mother's mother's rule.
None of us found the coin in our pieces. It must be in the half stored high up. Which is good. It means that the luck of God is high up there overlooking the household.
(I say this is very Chinese. Anything, everything can be translated in good terms.)

Dominique was very patient listening to us discuss various topics in English. She always wore a smile. Her eyes told us that she was paying attention. Sometimes when she wanted to join the conversation, she changed her facial expression or even raised her hand. She would say it slowly in English or quickly elegantly in Bulgarian and asked her son to translate.

Dominique reminds me of Catherine, a French mother, and of Nikki, my mother.
Their smiles and their manner in front of their children's friends are one of the most beautiful human things. No matter what status of their children to me, their loving appearance makes me want to be loved by them and earns my full respect.
That generation of women is the gem of historical events, is the fruit of traditional conservative virtues and modern revolutionary independent thinkings. Political wise, wars and dramatic change of ruling power happened in these mothers' parents' generation or during their own childhood. Gender-awareness wise, these mothers were career women and career housewives, and currently their children's fathers are not their life partners.
These mothers know well. They educate their children with tradition and with untraditional encouragement that has allowed us to be free in seeking what we want. We flew away from them but they are always on our minds.


I was sitting in Java Girl, a cozy coffee house on 66th St b/w 1st & 2nd Aves.
I leaned into the cushions by the window, enjoying the warm sun light. Suddenly memories came. My "so-called" childhood came to mind.
During that period of my life, Nikki was learning about the cruelty of life and I was the witness. It was harsh.
I am proud of her for her transformation out of that period of time. She was tough. She is tough.

She would like this coffee house as much as I do. I wish she was there with me, smiling at me.
The tradition between Nikki and I is an afternoon in a coffee house, followed by a walk in a city, Taipei or Manhattan. I will try my best to hand down this tradition.