After our honeymoon in Hawaii, I spent hours arranging all of our photos perfectly in a wedding album. Finding no satisfaction in it, I never looked at it again. Six months later, just before my father died, I gave him the pretty picture he wanted, my forgiveness, but I didn't mean it and I still don't. I cheated on my husband within months of our marriage and divorced him by our second anniversary. But years afterward, my mother still refused to take the wedding photos down off of her mantle. “They’re such beautiful pictures,” she would say. Beautiful, perfect and utterly meaningless.
So first off, my dad he was born in Thailand and my mom I think she was born in Cambodia. She said that she didn’t went to Cambodia so I really don’t know. So my family (parents, grandparents, aunts and uncle immigrated to the United States of America and became citizens. That time they lived in Stockton, California. I could of live there still. But my dad he went to school in New Hampshire and got a job here and the job over here paid a lot more money than California. So Then my mom side of the family came with my parents, and my dad side of the family stayed in California that was in the 1990s when they moved to New Hampshire. Then they separated, so now we don’t live together anymore.