What I know from others is that it was a very cold winter.  There was already snow on the ground.  Snow.  The world must have unzipped itself in my parents’ minds when they stepped into the icy air outside.  To grow up all your life in a tropical village you’ve never dreamed of leaving, then muck through the detritus of war to end up in a crowded refugee camp.  So many bodies, so many lives on hold.  And then to make the impossible decision: to leave, possibly forever.  This haunts me when I think about it.  The pain of making such a choice.

But soon we were flying like a bird through the air.  And then landed at the noisy airport, some Americans coming towards us, trying to pronounce our names.  And probably somebody bowed.  And then perhaps someone said, “Sabaidee.”  And a new life began.  The world expanded all around us.

from The Brattleboro Reformer, copyright may apply.

Our sponsors tried their best to teach us English, show us how to work the light switches, the faucets and toilets.  The stove.  They helped arrange jobs for my parents–a janitorial position for Dad, and a bakery job for Mom.  They also gave us our first Christmas.  I wish I remembered it.  Perhaps someday it will all flood back.  But for now, all I have is this newspaper photo of Dad with a box in his hand.  I think the spine says “Monster Puzzle”.  Maybe it’s for my brother or myself.  My mother is letting Dad choose and open the gifts.  My brother and I are on the floor, waiting for something.  What?  Our small tree is leaning under the weight of handmade ornaments.  Hanspeter, one of our sponsors, leans in, elbow on the table.

I gather it was a joyous party, our family the honored guests.  There was probably cider and cookies, nuts and cheese.  Some coffee.  I’m sure it exhausted us, and confounded us.  We’d been in America for a month.  We were the only Laotian refugees in Brattleboro, though that would soon change.  And though we were far from our family, we’d found ourselves in a close group of people who seemed to love one another.  They didn’t speak our language (except for a few) and they had no reason to love us.

I suppose that was the greatest gift we received.  Love.  Welcome.  Hope.  Kindness.  A Future.  All those new friends we’d made in the early 80’s were so generous.  Beyond the gifts of clothes and toys.  Beyond what we can touch.  They gave us their hearts.  I speak for my entire family when I say we are truly grateful.

girl on the platform meditating

Seems like ages ago that I wrote this poem, and just as long that Jennifer Karmin put it into action as part of her “Walking Poems” project in Chicago.  It’s recently published on How2.  Check it out.

I know I’ve grown so much as a poet since the writing and submission of this poem, but it still retains sentimental value for me.  I wrote during my brief little tour of New York City in January of 2006.  A country girl from Vermont in the big City for a weekend, I sent short emails home to my friends of my first impressions:

Finally got a taste of a real chocolate souflee, which I'd been dreaming 
about since the dessert party this summer, where it was noticably absent 
from the menu...found myself in an apartment with two guys playing Go, and a 
woman about to leave for Bejing early the next morning.

the smell of take out lingering in elevator carriages, the sounds of 
unidentifiable languages, people so familiar yet not my own. I could walk a 
long time down these hard gray streets before I needed rest. Bent pizza 
boxes, posters weathering off the walls, jewel-colored lamp shades in the 
park, the ghost of myself in the windows I walk past. So much tactile 
sensory information.

I had taken the trip to New York to read at a Kundiman-sponsored event at Verlaine.  I stayed with another Kundiman fellow, Rona Luo.  I had drinks at the Telephone Bar, where fellow Kundis were reading.  We went to Chinatown for dinner and ice creams.

I was broke and dreamy-eyed.  I had been practicing daily meditations on gratitude and love.  And as I waited for the train, I closed my eyes…

Slept in, per Rona's suggestion. Squatted on the station platform and 
meditated in the sun. Gorgeous no jacket day. Perused bookshops, killing 
time before lunch. Mongolian pepper steak, halo halo, Thai iced tea, gossip 
and poetry shop talk with one of the most beautiful women I know.What do I 
want? Someone who is comfortable in his body, and who can cherish mine. We 
ate next to fish the size of my head in their blue tank.

Oh, how young and dreamy I was then.  And in love with every new experience!