Prologue
“How was training, my dear?”
“It was dreadful, tiring yet I never felt so good about myself before. I will be heading to Middle East soon.”
“WHAT!”
“Mom, I am not going to combat or anything.”
“I won’t allow you to go. Give me your lieutenant or captain or whatever the highest rank is, their number. I will pay them back for the training and everything. At this moment, it is very dangerous to go. Don’t you watch the news. If I knew you were going to be stubborn, I would have never let you join the army.”
I just arrived home after my yearlong of training. I was supposed to start Yale this year but I had bigger and better thing in mind ---to serve my country. Most of the time, I can tolerate my mother lectures. I graduated high school last year at the age of 17 also I was the valedictorian. I was accepted to Yale and Stanford University, both are a very prominent college. How did I ever ended up in the military? After hearing all these stories about heroes, I wanted to be one so I joined the army. I wanted to fight for my country. I was full of national pride; I loved my country. Truthfully, I wanted to save those who have been serving this country we call land of the free and opportunities.
There are still a significant number of US soldiers captured as prisoner. By accident I saw a heart breaking clip of how this US soldier was tortured by the Iraq armies. I had nightmares almost every night until I finally made a life changing choice. I didn’t want to kill for freedom or to stop terrorism, those are reasons the government give. I wanted to save those that were lied to by the government.
My mother intruded my room and handed me a picture. I looked at it for the longest time in confusion. “Mom, why are you showing me this?”
“Your biological parent are still alive,” she blurted in despair. At that moment when she finished, I had difficulty breathing, my heart dropped and zoomed out of my mind. She sat down with me on the bed crying, “I’m sorry. Your dad and I didn’t want to lose you. We lied to your parent that you didn’t want to go back and we lied to you that they died in a car accident when they were released from jail. I’m sorry but I wasn’t able to let you go back. I’m sorry.”
I was supposed to be mad at her for lying, but I just couldn’t. I knew she meant no harm, after all she did cared for me for the past 12 years, treated me as if I was her child, and loved me with all her heart. I cuddled her in my arms, “I understand.”
She straightened her sitting postured, grabbed me by my shoulders, “If you really want to go, you have to have consent from your biological family.”
Just as what I thought, she was going to use it against me. I agreed that I would pay my biological family a visit and tell them all about my plans. I was in the car, agitation was building up inside of me, I haven’t spoken in Hmong for 12 years. I don’t even know if I am still able to speak or even understand. The ride took a two days. We made a lot of stops for rest, breakfast, lunch and dinner. At the front porch, I stood there. My mother spoke softly, “Honey, why won’t you ring the door bell?”
I froze. What do I say? I haven’t seen them in 12 years. Will they recognize me? Will I recognize them?
h34r: for the time being. 