Paper
Storyboard Text
- "She turned the paper over and folded it again. She pleated, packed, tucked, rolled, and twisted until the paper disappeared between her cupped hands. Then she lifted the folded-up paper packet to her mouth and blew into it, like a balloon.'Kan,' she said. 'Laohu' she put her hands down on the table and let go." (Page 64)
- "Laohu turned and pounced, knocking the plastic figure off the table. It hit the floor and broke, and Obi-Wan's head rolled under the couch. 'Rawwwww,' Laohu laughed. I joined him.Mark punched me, hard. 'This was very expensive! You can't even find it in stores now. It probably cost more than what your Dad paid for your Mom.' " (Page 68)
- " 'We should eat American food.' Dad tried to reason. 'A lot of families cook Chinese sometimes.' 'We are not other families.' I looked at him. Other families don't have Moms who don't belong. He looked away. And then he put a hand on Mom's shoulder. 'I'll get you a cookbook.' Mom turned to me. 'Bu haochi?' ' English,' I said, raising my voice. ' Speak English.'(Page 69)
- "If Mom spoke to me in Chinese, I refused to answer. After a while, she tried to use more English. But her accent and broken sentences embarrassed me. I tried to correct her. Eventually, she stopped speaking altogether if I was around. (Page 70)
- "Dad and I stood, one on each side of Mom, lying on the hospital bed. She was not yet even forty, but she looked much older. For years she had refused to go to the doctor for the pain inside her that she said was no big deal. By the time an ambulance finally carried her in, the cancer had spread far beyond limits of surgery. My mind was not in the room. It was the middle of the on-campus recruiting season and I was focused on resumes, transcripts, ad strategically constructed interview schedules." (Page 71)
- "The young woman handed the paper back to me. I could not bear to look into her face. Without looking up, I asked for her help in tracing out the character for ai on the paper below Mom's letter. I wrote the character again and again on the paper, intertwining my pen strokes with her words. The young woman reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. Then she got up and left, leaving me alone with my mother. Following the creases, I refolded the paper back into Laohu. I cradled him in the crook of my arm , and as he purred, we began to walk home. (Page 76)
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