Hot sticky humid summer nights in Shanghai. We are holed up in a small cramped hotel room on a busy street near the tree-lined French Concession area of the city. We are on one my my family's now customary workcations (work vacations) during the summer off from grade school. 

My lil brother isn't feeling well and has a fever, coughing waking in and out of sleep. My mom gets up and makes it her singular goal to get him porridge at 2am in the morning. She went out not knowing the area, alone; Dad was away on a business meeting. She found only small street vendors open that late. They were slowly closing up for the night. This is Asia at 2am. They didn't have to-go bowls, nor a solution. She looks around frustrated. "How much for the whole pot?" 

She bought the whole restaurant sized pot, making some random stranger's night, and brought it back, porridge spilling over on the sidewalk as she walked back with the gigantic metal cauldron. We are a family of happy Chinese kids as we eat late night porridge out this gigantic pot, the glow of busy neon red lights flickering outside the hotel window. She smiles. And what a smile. We smile too.

A couple days later, my brother is still not well. We had to take him to the hospital. Chinese hospitals are nothing like American hospitals. The nurse couldn't find my brother's vein for the IV. Mom gave her signature annoyed look and found his vein herself. "Stupid commi nurses" she says...

"I brought you flowers today because I love you and you always listen..."

This is my mom. Clips of memory of my awesome awesome mom and just one of the numerous stories remembered today. 

I can't believe it's been exactly a year. Sometimes I am afraid to write about you because I think I could never stop -if it weren't for the fact that I know I have to keep writing... 

And I covered you today with your favorite flowers, scattered the petals in the wind to remind myself of how fleeting and beautiful these moments - and watched the sun shine over you waiting for the phoenix's rebirth.