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272 pages, Paperback
First published April 28, 2009
Irene [a younger sister of Mei-Ling who had also been given away for adoption] grew up in a pretty four-bedroom home that her father designed with a pitched roof on a winding street called Dersbachstrasse, not far from Lake Zug [Switzerland]. The front yard was often garnished with brilliant red geraniums. They had a swing set, a tree that the kids loved to climb, and a huge garden in the backyard where they grew their own vegetables and fruits, including beans, potatoes, cucumbers, berries, and figs. From the back of the house, they had a marvelous lake view. Her childhood was happy and simple. Her mom loved to cook and made almost everything from scratch. Their neighborhood was full of kids their age, and they usually went on vacation during the summer (to the beach, usually Italy) and winter (skiing at a small resort). Often their many aunts, uncles, and cousins came along. They also hiked in their mountains with their extended family.
The woman doesn’t know that I am the sixth daughter of a farmer and his wife. I could have grown up in the sweltering humidity of Taitung, eating rice porridge for breakfast, learning Chinese script, and toiling in the sun under my father’s watchful eye, or I could have been given to an alcoholic uncle who had no wife and no children and who desperately wanted his own family. I could have been engulfed by the secrets of my own house, burning incense in honor of my ancestors. I could have gone to college in Taiwan, studied English on the side, and scrambled to build a life in a small apartment in the cramped city of Taipei.