“It is now, and in this world, that we must live.”
I’ve written about Ching Ming before. This year, it falls on April 4th. (Ironically, the number four sounds like the word death in Chinese.)
Sadly, I lost someone I loved last year. So this time around, I’ll be doing a lot of remembering and reminiscing.
Here’s a snippet of something I wrote while in anguish:
Ramen Bones
Ramen, a rectangular plot of bleached whiteness. I tore the package open, staring at the bone white. My hands itched to eat the whole chunk dry, but my mind intervened. I reached for the pot and boiled the water. I watched the noodles lengthen, a mass of snakes hissing at me.
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