It was my son’s birthday yesterday. He is a true star in every way, especially in this relocation. I don’t use the word, “uprooting”, but the move felt like that and still does sometimes. He deals with it.
Rushing to get home, I was going to cook noodles for dinner. Chinese eat noodles on birthdays, for old and young family members, because the noodles symbolize a long life.
These star fruits were staring at me from a stand next to the subway station, waxy, yellowish-greenish, like the young leaves in early spring, like my son, who is full of vigor, tenacity, and curiosity.