The Family Business

This is for the souls who happen to wander in. Wander into the place where many shy away from yet few are rewarded for their boldness... loyalty...... curiosity. The second home for those with first homes. The scarred souls who don't think, just take...but we forget and forgive.

To the woman who is the queen of caskets. Buying lotto like they were penny-candies and she has a sweet tooth. Asking about the family (or do you have business on your mind?)...Yes, we have shimp chips today...but sorry no more grape soda.

To the man with the slow step and salt and pepper beard. He calls my twelve-year old sister "ma'am" and reminds me of a simpler time when people thought a little longer and hearts were a bit stronger and being polite was a standard.

To my dad who likes to listen to the news loud so he can hear the newest immigration stories and asks me if they get rid of all the immigrants who will pick the strawberries?

To the ghost of the past who cut my uncle's ear with a broken bottle. Robbing, pilfering...cowardly fool. Let your ski mask become your Iron Mask, to adhere to your face so you will never have to show the shame of your dirty visage.

To the funny woman who comes in to ask for money. But my mom says no. And the funny woman says why. And my mom says because she has too many taxes to pay. The funny woman replies with Everybody gotta pay taxes--this America! And then my mom smirks with Well, then that makes me Mrs. America! And they share a mutual laugh.

To all the hungry souls who come in and order who only want my mom to cook for them. Who ask my mother to make the same thing that they ordered last time because they cannot remember the simple words of "chicken fried rice." Who tell me that she is the best cook ever and that they go no where else to get their food. How sometimes they drive an hour out of their way to our little shop and how they were craving egg rolls and sweet and sour chicken on Sunday but we were closed. But do they know how the compliments are all washed away when I hear you talk on your phone to your friend to ask them what they want to order only to hear, "What kinda Japanese food you wanna order?"

To Christopher and Fatboy who are both under 8 years old. How they cried to my mom when their mother was taken away by the cops and they wiped their tears on my mother's apron crying, "I told them not to take my mom away but they wouldn't listen!!"

To the opaque stanger who walks in for a "brown bag special" and doesn't think about anything other than his next quick fix and how for $3 bucks, that's a bargain.

To the tired mother, whose husband died at the hands of her father now in jail, whose daughter tried to cut her life away at the seams of her wrists. She has a twitch in her eye, a limp in her step, and a wrinkle in her heart, yet still hopes to hit it big tonight. One more QuickPick! We make sure to always stock her favorite soda--Diet Big Red.

To Ellie Bellie and Peas and Carrots who even though they complain of slavery, they still stand behind the counter like stoic statues smiling ready to give you the correct change.

To the hopeful entreprenuer who would always watch Nancy cook because he liked the exotic feel of Chinese food and would always ask questions. Is that some kind of Chinese spice? No, for the seventh time, it's just salt.

To the midnight burglar whose plan to break into the bricks through the air conditioning vent and didn't account for his wide waist and it took three policemen to wriggle him out of the vent hole and throw him in jail for 72 hours only to be out again waiting...waiting.

To my older sister--how do you do it? In one day, she was asked out on a date, proposed to twice, and asked to go on a holiday cruise all by different men.

To the landlord lady who will finally put my mother's name down on the title. My mother's sweat, tears, blood, and more tears widdled down to mere ink on sheets of thin paper. But no, to her it is her determination branded in stone.