Dear mother,

I feel like a broken record, mother.

I’ve kept my mother in the loop when it comes to the things my brother has done and said to me. She’s aware of all this but takes no action.

When father died five years ago, she didn’t step up. If anything, she became more engrossed in her work. Perhaps this is how she coped with it as it was a loving marriage. She got another job to pick up after dad. I get it. She did this to take care of us. I know she loves us. I love her too. But even before dad died, she wasn’t exactly available either. Whether it was being physically or emotionally present, she wasn’t exactly there. She loved her job as a high school teacher for history and Japanese writing. So, she spent most of her time and energy in being the best teacher at Hoshuuko instead of being present at home besides one aspect. When dad was alive, she put a lot of effort into our meals. I could see how much she loved us through her dishes when we ate as a family -together at the dinner table-. When we talked at the dinner table though, she was more often than not the listener. She wasn't the best at speaking English, but I don't know... she was sufficiant. And we all spoke Japanese. I don't think I'm being unreasonable. It became a lot more noticeable when dad was no longer with us.

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I grew up hearing about all these crazy stories about my dad and his siblings from him until he died when I got into middle school but to this day, I don’t know who my mother was growing up. I’ve seen some pictures of her from when she was younger but other than that, it’s zilch. I mean there are occasionally these times where she’d take a good look at me and say things like “you’re so much prettier than I was when I was your age”. Or “You got your father’s genes; how lucky”. I really was shocked to see a picture of my dad when he was a kid. He had long blond locks framing a very innocent smile. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen in the photo. It’s still so foreign to me. He was a gorgeous child. It still doesn't make sense to me because my mother is beautiful now and well, he was an old white dude. She just had unfortunate haircuts growing up. Not everyone can sport the bowl cut. Let’s be reasonable. Also, I don’t know if it’s because she’s Asian, but she aged a lot more gracefully than most of my classmate’s parents. So, I don't know why she's complaining. Isn't it the inside that counts anyway?

When I ask for your help, mother, especially emotionally, I at least expect you to respond as I am your daughter. Telling me that my brother will eventually grow up when he turns twenty-two this year doesn’t help me.