Buoy Don’t Float

Jenny = cousin from dad’s side.

I’ve seen Jenny what seems to be three times in my life. One, when she was still on all fours. Two, when she was this dark pre-teen. Three, this winter break when she stopped by for dinner with Linda and I–very pretty and light-skinned now. Anyway, it’s saddening how little I know my dad’s side of the family. Funny thing is that I grew up with them till age 6 or so, yet at this point in my life, I don’t even think I can remember faces or names for most of them. Yet somehow, my sister manages to. At family events, I usually just follow behind her and repeat her greetings: a Chao Bac here and Chao Co there.

In retrospect, it was really interesting. It was one of those long-lost-friend-you-haven’t-seen-in-ages dinner where you really connect and share good times and personal histories and then you get excited about the chance to renew the relationship and possibly hang out again in the near future. We were pretty excited about hanging out in Berkeley since she lives in nearby Sunnyvale, but that has yet to happen. (I’m not bitter or anything, I just find it funny that my run-ins with people come to that conclusion.)

She impressed me a lot, and the formulations of this post have been sitting in my drafts for a while because I haven’t exactly figured out why. I guess I’m finishing this because there seems to be a current trend in thanking the family–or at least an illusion of one caused by my guilt–but I admired how Jenny took the time to stop by, say hello to family she doesn’t even know well, and then find the time to visit our grandma. On top of all that, I forgot to add that she is 18 and yet brought her 28 year old boyfriend around with her to meet the family–she also confessed to being concerned about peoples’ reactions to the age difference. That takes a lot of guts. (I could never do that) While I don’t care for image a whole lot in my personal life, parents are an exception.