On a sunny day, My mom and I decide to go to Chinatown to go grocery shopping. Of course, my dad was also dragged along. Who else was going to drive? I was rather excited that I was able to sit in my dad’s old Chevy van. I haven’t been driven by my dad for a long time ever since I purchased my own car. As my dad journey to Chinatown with one hand on the steering wheel and a cigarette on the left, I watched the sun travel with the highway of I95. Eventually, we reached the hustle and bustle of Philadelphia Chinatown. I immediately smell the fish from the market and hear excited chitchat in Cantonese dialect. The moment I step out of the car, my mom grabs for my 23-year-old hand. To the people around us, it might look odd that a full-grown Chinese woman is holding hands with her mother. Doesn’t matter where we are, doesn’t matter who’s around us, my mom just adores holding my hands.
The warmth and smooth texture of her hands are bliss… until we run into my manager. -___-