06.12.23cultural idiosyncrasies

In Vietnam, all the dudes and men after drinking beer and gorging themselves would scuttle around in their slides with arched backs and shirts pulled above their bellies, postured like baby who just started walking. My dad would do the same on hot days after a meal, patting and soothing his gut, airing it out.

After the rowdiness, they’d all go pass out in preparation for a second round. Child’s routine: the best fun.

–

Growing up, my parents would give kisses by tapping the front of their face to our heads and doing a sniff. This is often how I kiss my cat. No Tom Brady shit here, but a good ol’ sniff. Smelling someone up close is intimate, but in a way much different than kissing.

Kissing in Vietnamese — Ocean Vuong

–

When my aunt and grandma met me for the first time on their first and only visit to America, they squeezed my arms to the bone. Took my goddamn blood pressure, proved my heart was pumping. It was me. I was alive and real. How incredible it was to see me simply exist. The joy of seeing a child.

Yet how estranged I felt, and still feel, from them.