Ching-Mei came back from her father’s death in Brantford, her almost breakdown, her extended stay in the mountains of Kyoto in Japan not talking to anyone but her old friend from art school in the evenings, who is living there, who she stayed with. She came back from blending from everyone assuming her Japanese, her short bangs and black Asian hair bun with pointy bits growing slightly more pointy, from the pleasure of being a part of but of perfectly not understanding one syllable so just by herself alone understanding. Finally.
She came back to her job at the Canada Pension Plan and
I didn’t realize how much I missed her.
