A Letter to Mommy

I took a photo of my mom when we were in Spain in 2019. I have many thoughts that go with this picture that I kept quiet since. I wanted to write a representative letter to my mom.

Parc Güell, Barcelona

Dear Mommy,

You used to choose to wear the same wool red sweater at home, the one from grandma. I remember the colour of it, and I mostly retain the scent. It smelled of a blend of deep-fry, long hours of simmering lemongrass and bone broth, and a spray of French eau de toilette as an attempt to freshen up the fabric. It was a concentrated aroma of our home. Cuisine has always been one of the foundations of Vietnamese culture and has acted as an anchor in my upbringing.

Our fridge and freezer were always fully packed, although you went to work every day during the week. On weekends, I could visualize the understone scent in our home by watching you in the kitchen preparing bone broth in a big pot, too large for the three of us. You spent the full day in the kitchen chopping ingredients, stir-frying them in a wok with a few staple condiments, and multi-cooking meals to prepare for the following week. You dedicated your weekends to feed Dad and me while you invested your time in work and family during the week. You consistently sacrificed your time to put us first. You never told me you loved me, but like what they say, that was your love language.

When I was younger, you used to create fashion pieces for me to wear on occasions (communions, birthdays, weddings). You loved fashion and even opened your own boutique. The timing led you to take difficult decisions, and you closed your shop to prioritize raising me. It may be a closed chapter for you, but I won’t forget your portfolio that showcased high-end outfits, ahead of its time. The passion you had in fashion was also part of the underlayer of my skills development; I turned out to have a big interest in trending wear and looks that are outside of the box.

There was a time when we travelled together to Spain so I could show you around after my graduation. There, I took a photo of you wearing floral linen clothes in the sunlight. It’s an image I will never forget. I hope you felt relieved in that second, that you could finally take it easy in life and let me bring you around our hometown and the world to live new experiences.