An-Mei hsu

        old me my mot. t mean my mot o talk about. So I kneed me tet my moto remember not I kneall stairs. ties family tle brother.

        But I often ories of a g o take g-tle girls imes Popo said aloud to all    of tupid goose, t nobody ed, not even good enougo crack over rice pe. S ts    steal us ao Popo we were also very precious.

        All my life, Popo scared me. I became even more scared ten o errible stink and tell me stories. "An-mei," s;Listen carefully." Sold me stories I could not uand.

        One    a greedy girl ter. ter refusing to say er melon.

        "If yreedy, w is inside you is w makes you always ; said Popo.

        Anotime, Popo told me about a girl en to o refuse ies simple request t a little we ball fell from    poured all h.

        "Your os are so busy s everyts pus," Popo told me.

        Rigalked to me about my mot;Never say ; s;to say o spit on your fat;

        ting t o be so still on tless eyes follo tcetimes,    sc a book t see my face.

        I felt our    my little brot seem to tyard, side t ies best feating village friends.

        But even my brot aside cyard. Just as it passed ate, ture of toppled from its stand ao ty ground. An old lady screamed and fainted. My brotie slapped him.

        My auntie, old    for aors or family, just like our motie ongue like ing silk clotie said our motless s taking ture from o my fat bringing en pairs of silver cicks,    paying respey fators. ie ie sed t our motsing her bad children.

        And    Auntie alking c a    te and spat on his face.

        "Y    me, but you are not; Auntie said. "You are ttle respect sraitor to our aors. S even t look doo see ;

        t is and tories Popo taugo learn for my mot;; Popo often said, "it is like dropping your necklace do it back is to fall in after it."

        Noless imes to eat anot fruit, o be free of Popo,    lucky t s s us. ts I    ch me.

        I ting at top of tairs ood just i aller tie, almost as tall as my uncle. Sraoo, like t our sd bossy in too-tall s hair.

        My auntie quickly looked a call ea. An old servant ried to keep very still, but my    felt like crickets scratco get out of a cage. My mot    me. Eyes t stayed oo much.

        In Popos room my auntie protested, "too late, too late," as my mot t stop my mother.

        "e back, stay ; murmured my moto Popo. "Nuyer is er is back." Popos eyes    noions, not staying long enougo see anyt of the room.

        I c time, tty e skin and oval faot too round like Aunties or s se neck, just like t    so float bad fort, dipping cool cloto lay on Popos bloated face. As so Popos eyes, s c it ten dream.

        uro my room later t afternoon, sanding tall. And because I remember Popo told me not to speak ood te. Sook my o ttee. And t dohis every day.

        My moto loosen my braids and brusrokes.

        "An-mei, you er?" s look.

        I looked at    inside I rembling. I er melon.

        "An-mei, you kno look for fear my    and my brains    of my ears.

        Sopped brus t , I became very still. It o my skin. And to cry, hers voice.

        I able, and I could see my baby brotting on Popos lap, g eaming dark soup brougo table, voices murmuring politely, "C;—Please, eat!

        And talking stopped. My uncle rose from uro look at tall ood. I he only one who spoke.

        "Ma," I    my auntie slapped my fad pusanding up and sing, and I ;An-mei! An-mei!" Above this noise, Popos shrill voice spoke.

        "? Not an    a ake your daugo lift up ;

        Still my moted for me to e. I remember able. Betood t on its    stand—rog slo t hough everyones anger were p all over me.

        terrible t a little c. But it is still in my skins memory. I cried out loud only a little, because soon my fleso burst inside and out and y breathing air.

        I could not speak because of terrible c see because of all tears t poured out to    away.

        Later t nigo me.

        "An-mei, listen carefully." one s;Aon."

        I listened, scared.

        "An-mei," sly. "Your dying clot fancy, because you are still a c life and you ill o. Your funeral ime for you ;

        And t he burning on my neck.

        "Even your motears a. If you do not get ;

        Popo . I came o find my mother.

        Every nig bot to my bed sat Popo. Ser over my neck from t. Sil my breat and I could fall asleep. In the dead membranes.

        In time, my scar became pale and s is t is o close in on itself, to protect    started the pain.

        I anding by Popos bed    t I came to love t because so me and begged me tive . S o explain t Popo c of t o tell me ssing to exchis as well.

        o love my motrue nature.    h my skin. Inside my bones.

        It e at nig to Popos room. My auntie said it ime and I must s. I put on a    dress and stood betie and u t of Popos bed. I cried a little, not too loud.

        I sa and sad. So teaming pot. And t a s test part of ried to y eyes, but could not.

        And t a pieeat from ears poured from o the floor.

        My motook    it in t tradition to try to cure    time. Soo tigrying to keep    in. S t nigh her illness.

        Even the pain.

        ter    is s is in your bo fet. Because sometimes t is to remember    peel off your skin, and t of your motil thing. No scar, no skin, no flesh.
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