Once Upon The Past

art by Hannah Nguyen, words by Jenny Vu

In the August before the year that my childhood ended

I went back to the house of myth

The famed home that I only knew from my father’s tongue

Fleeting watercolor images of 

A dozen figures huddled up 

Over small bowls of white grains or noodles 

Gathering water from a well of stone or concrete

The tented market where my grandmother

Would buy bean sprouts or okra or tomatoes 

Or coconut milk in a cup or bag or can

But these are only faded moments that I have never touched myself

I only know the smile of my father when he speaks of his mother

I only know the soft whispered name bà nội 

The house of myths from my mind’s eye is now a house of words

The ephemeral well had become a square of concrete

The one murky room had grown four more

Made of solid wood and cool tile

The open-air market of my imagination 

Sold coconut milk most definitely in plastic cups and

Was tented with colored tarps and 

Smelled more of aged rain than of nectared sugar cane

My eyes see the pictures of the tourist-filled beaches but

My bones recognize the stone towers of the bay

My fingers feel sun beating down my neck but

My lips knows the taste of garlicky fish sauce 

That has fed this face I’ve inherited 

Through centuries

In the August before the year my childhood ended

I came back to the oak-treed front yard 

The only childhood my American memories have known

Sharp photographs of 

Mulched playgrounds the color of mustard

Mall food court fried rice with frozen peas

Balling up snow as the daughter 

Of those who have never felt its chill

Each season smooths the details of that August 

Faces slowly become two eyes and a mouth  

Voices softly fade into a low hum

Aromas quietly dissipate into this cold air

Until memory becomes myth once again