At one point of your life, you would look around
and think, this is what my independent life looks like
And by independent, you mean occasional allowance sent from home because mom thought you don't have enough
Or dad giving you one fifth of his salary every month so you can quit that vegetarian diet
he was convinced you stopped eating meat because you can't afford to
(Dad has retired, and by Vietnamese currency he earned quite a bit,
but remittance from home to empire doesn't work quite the same way)
You tried telling them, "it's a lifestyle, it's not that I don't have enough money"
But you don't have enough money
to move into an one bedroom apartment
That's why when they visit, you let them stay in the bed and you sleep in that tiny couch in the corner
That's what daughters far away from home do.
Now you look at every corner of the small studio
Which has seen you at your absolute worst
When a random sickness hits you at four in the morning and you try to drag yourself into the bathroom
You thought, absentmindedly, it could have been worse;
(but being homeless or dying on the street is not a metaphor)
You remember the TV stand on sale you bought to use as a desk
And when it was, it saw you breaking your back trying to pull all nighters after all nighters writing essays
while telling yourself, hey, I'm good enough, I can do this
(English was not your first language, and you weren't one of those
lucky kids whose parents can afford international schools and summer camps)
But here you are, convincing the world that you have something to say, important and legible messages, even though most of the time
you don't know how to do small talks
and people lean toward you two inches too close when they demand you to repeat yourself
This small studio witnessed your two years
of transforming into something, someone else and when somebody reminds you of home,
you're not even sure where that is.
Because if home is where your family's at
And if families are those who have supported you regardless of the path you chose
Then this tiny studio has been home all along
The queen bed with drawers underneath and red bedding, the gray pillowcases and soft blanket
Hugging you into sleep after a long day
Absorb your occasional tears and depression; you almost hear it says,
it's fine, sleep some more, no one needs to know this, no one would see this, you are safe here
But you don't believe it, because outside this home, the whole city is a strange place
Though you were not sure whereelse wouldn't be
You are ready to move on
People say when you are ready to take a first step, everything else flows smoothly like a stream
And if you get the one step of a master plan, things will fall into place
But every step you took was the first step of a long run in which you don't dream of the destination
And the journeys themselves were but combinations of steps
But you are ready to move on
Even further from home.
Except whenever you look around, despite where you'd be at
You would think of your first furniture.
-Furniture with memories: you always get nostalgic when you move
