Tag: immigration

Yesterday, I got a pedicure. And the technician was someone I have seen in the shop, but she had never done my nails before. As she was working on my feet, my nail technician got to telling me her life story. It turns out that she was one of the Vietnamese boat people who came over to the United States in the 1970s. She was nine-years-old. Her parents put her on the boat with a young woman she barely knew, who was to marry the nail technician’s brother. Her parents had eleven children and they wanted something better for them, than the communists had to offer in Vietnam at the time. My nail technician said it took three months to cross the ocean. She started out in Beaumont, Texas. She said that at the time, there were very few Asians in Texas, so they formed a tight community there, with other Vietnamese immigrants. Her brother and his wife took care of her until she married a man who had also come over from her village and they moved to Florida. My nail technician and her husband had five children during their marriage, but unfortunately, her husband died of a sudden heart attack tens years ago. She told me that he was the love of her life, and for the first year after his death, she wouldn’t even let herself accept that he was gone. But she said, she always keeps busy. She has five children to raise as a single mother! And she told me her children are all doing well. Two are in college, one is in medical school, and two are still at home. I told her that she might be one of the bravest people I have ever met. She just giggled softly. She told me that she is feisty, but she just feels lucky. She feels so lucky to live in the United States.

I am one of those people in life who other people have the tendency to tell me their life stories. I think this is because I am a curious person. I’m interested. I have learned that everyone has a story. And honestly everyone’s story is fascinating and intriguing in its own way. I have also learned that it is often the people who do the everyday behind the scenes/service jobs who have the most incredible stories of all that I have ever heard. I have learned in life that it is often the royalty of the world who are serving meals, cleaning houses, and tending gardens for the rest of us paupers. These people are typically more courageous, more hopeful, more determined and yet, more grateful than almost anybody would or could imagine, or even hope to be themselves. I feel so lucky to understand this about people. Listening to people’s stories is humbling and awestriking, all at the same time.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.