We all gather outside

underneath a white tent in the 

courtyard of the apartment.

Upstairs, a grieving mother

sits fold-legged in prayer reciting the ancient 

verses of the dead.

Her eldest, Tep,

passed in his sleep in

the small hours before 

anyone even noticed.

She lost her husband

only three months prior,

and now her son is gone, too.

Both a grieving wife and mother,

she seeks solace beyond what

the natural world can offer.

I didn’t know him too well.

I know his sister, a very dear friend.

We all used to live on the other side 

of town an entire childhood ago.

On this bright, crisp day, I 

sit at this long banquet table

filled with Khmer yellow curry, 

smells of galanga, the sweet citrus

of kaffir lime, golden turmeric, 

stewed with potatoes and onions

and the whole chicken, feet and neck

with all the natural collagen 

the way the aunties always make it.

I watch Katie maneuver a 

slippery piece of the short, sturdy,

claws with her chopsticks

while she removes the skin,

cartilage, and tendons from the

bones in her mouth and 

discard the tiny leftovers cleanly

 like a true Cambodian.

“It’s the best part,” I say.

“That’s what I told my husband, Eric. 

These white people putting powder collagen 

in their smoothies.

I tell him, ‘Just eat the real stuff.’”

We laugh. 

The Hennessy bottle gets passed around.

At the end of the table, 

strangers without introductions chime in.

They get comfortable.

“Damn, you still sipping that shot?”

I am a slow drinker. 

I look over to a group of grown man thugs

 still feeling fresh

from ‘92 and I say, 

“Don’t worry about how long I sip my drink.”

“Aight, aight, aight…” 

they raise shot glasses.

I left the old neighborhood 

nearly thirty years ago, but

everyone still jokes about

how my parents didn’t let me 

play outside.

As I sit at this gathering, 

honoring past lives, 

I recognize I am no longer

that sheltered girl 

whose parents were really strict 

but someone who has 

grown  own, not afraid to stand up

to older bullies, someone who 

longed to miss her community, 

and someone who still enjoys all 

the jungle Asian cuisines.