home away from home

Having my parents visit made me realize how much I've missed them... but at the same time, reaffirmed why I moved out in the first place.

It felt surreal having them here... my two worlds (New York life + Cali life) colliding. When they were here, my dad kept commenting about their old life in NY... how certain establishments were still standing, how things have changed. Like how there was this amazing pizza joint somewhere on this block, and I would shake my head frustratedly and say "appa, there are millions of pizza places..." While I was working, they'd conquer the city on their own, traveling seamlessly from Queens to Brooklyn to Manhattan to Jersey in the course of a day. As they stepped into our humble studio home, they commented on how we need to tidy up after ourselves; our week-long cleaning session was in vain.

I couldn't help but feel half-embarrassed as my dad stormed into quiet wine bars in East Village asking them (in his rowdy, half-drunken state) what time they were closing and what other good spots were in the area. And while there are a million awesome eateries in town, they just wanted some ssuh-lung-tang & soju. (Boy, was my dad in for a rude awakening when he found a soju bottle was thrice the cost!) Before they arrived, I was so ecstatic about their coming that I told myself there was no way that I would let the little things get to me. Oh, but how I was wrong. I saw myself quickly reverting to the irritable daughter with the short temper that I thought I got rid of when I left home.

For some reason, my dad was adamant on finding the landmark residence of O. Henry (the poet). In fact, we were searching every nook and alley of Greenwich Village on three separate occasions trying to find this freakin' house. We would go into random boutiques and stores, harassing store-owners for directions (of course, none of them had a clue). I was completely annoyed, unaware of why the heck this place was so important to my dad. Eventually, I found out that my parents discovered on the first day of their trip that their dear friends (another married couple) who they planned to visit, passed away this past year. Apparently, it was an extremely tragic incident that had to do with a suicide. 20+ years ago, my parents went on a double date with this couple at a pub nearby the O. Henry site, explaining my dad's relentless need of wanting to revisit this place. I wanted to kick myself afterward.

As they departed with hugs and kisses, I felt a little heaviness in my heart. Them being here reminded me of their beginnings, their sacrifices, and my own beginnings. Wow, that was very Amy Tan of me, but something about it made me feel a bit sad and strangely hopeful all the same.