mẹ

to the woman who raised me
from whom i get my fighting spirit and determination
gifts of the refugee experience

mẹ worked full time as a housekeeper
picking up after others
to pay her way through college

late nights and early mornings
little did she know she’d be carving out
a better future for me; for us

a mother figure to her four siblings
forced to grow up at a young age
a ten year old mother

she cried that first night at berkeley
missing her “children”
feeling as if she’d abandoned them

a dutiful daughter; home every weekend
cooking and cleaning

pho and bun bo hue brewing on the stove
“too much salt”
ba ngoai would always say

never missing a death anniversary
or lunar new year

her beautiful by estee lauder perfume
which i now wear
scent of the berkeley to concord commute by bart
back home.