Homeseeking

by Karissa Chen

Apa wanted her to care, and it wasn’t that she didn’t. But how could she care about the war apart from what was happening in front of her? And how could she live if she only focused on the death and fear and hunger? It was exhausting to constantly remember she and her family could die in any number of terrible ways at any given moment.

Mediocrity was a safe place to be, even if it did not bring her the same joy as excellence.

And that’s what the Communist Party wanted: fairness for all people. It wanted everyone, from farm workers to mothers, to be recognized for their efforts; it wanted to end the widespread famine and poverty that existed in the rural countryside outside of their Shanghai bubble. This all seemed good and right to Suchi. But Apa had cautioned his daughters that ideals and politics were two different things and human flaws always got in the way.

Like much in this world, what was beauty and what was torment depended upon the context.

Maybe it’s this obsession over things we can’t change that is killing us. Maybe we have to stop thinking about it and move forward with our lives.” “But aren’t you afraid of forgetting?” “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m afraid of a lifetime of remembering the things I want to forget.”

He could no longer muster the same fervor. Nationalists, Communists—they were all the same. Asking ordinary people to sacrifice their lives, to kill their fellow countrymen, all so their leaders could come to power.

Suchi knew now that home wasn’t a place. It wasn’t moments that could be pinned down. It was people, people who shared the same ghosts as you, of folks long gone, places long disappeared. People who knew you, saw you, loved you. When those people were far-flung, your home was too. And when those people were gone, home lived on inside you.

What can a mother do but be steadfast in her love and hope?