I hold a fork and a spoon in each hand looking down at all my options. I never know if it's a fork, spoon, soup spoon, or chopstick type of situation. "Just a spoon this time", he says. Eager to eat, I watch my boyfriend carefully choose a lettuce leaf. I hand him a spoon and he puts some Nam into the center of the leaf. He folds the leaf with precision and ease. My fingers struggle at mimicking his. The muscle memory isn't there.
Nam: traditional Lao dish made with fried rice, meat, and herbs
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Banana
Non-FictionBeing a biracial Chinese person raised by white people in a western society, I have always found it difficult to find my place. In this small collection of flash creative nonfiction, I explore the way I am perceived by others versus how I perceive m...
