[1] It was a routine Saturday evening. [2] The clattering of pots and pans echoed through the house. [3] As my mother and I prepared dinner, we had our usual conversation about school and life. [4] She grew quiet as I shared my hopes of going away to college. [5] College applications should be completed as early as possible. [6] She looked at me sadly at the age of eighteen and said that I was abandoning our traditions by leaving home. [7] I talked with her about the benefits gained from being independent. [8] She abruptly changed the subject. (19)
[1] I have as many happy memories of my childhood in Vietnam. [2] I loved our traditional New Year celebrations.(21) [3] One would burn paper money for good luck and go from house to house wishing our relatives health and happiness. [4] During the Moon Festival, I would show off the lanterns, my mother had made, eat mooncake, and drink tea with my grandparents. [5] I looked forward to the ocean air and the sound of the waves. [6] My mother walks with me on the wet sand, often buying me something from one of the shops along the beach. (26)
But my mother's work as an art dealer has taken us far from home. When we immigrated to Houston, Texas, I learned about the different groups and cultures that make up my high school. Through my friends, I have developed a love for ribs and tacos, alternative rock and hip-hop, mocha cappuccino and skateboarding. (28) I enjoy spending evenings at a local cafe with my classmates, talking and studying together.
My mother has often asked me; why I don't like to do the things or eat the foods that I did when I was younger. For a long time I could not understand why she was so protective of our Vietnamese traditions. Eventually, I began to understand that her reason for reminding me of our birthplace is to preserve in me a respect for it's culture.
I still hope to go away to college next year. I also hope my mother is beginning to realize that I will take with me a part of the culture of our family and our home.