Days of Distraction

by Alexandra Chang

You can’t choose your family . . . but if I could, I’d still choose this one, mine.

As long as I’ve known them, my parents have bought lottery tickets. I don’t. Then, at least, I am completely certain I will not win. The certainty is more manageable for me than the cycle of hoping/not knowing and losing and hoping/not knowing and losing. The poor man’s tax, I’ve heard it called. Or worse, the stupid tax. But what the people who say that don’t understand is: when in all aspects of life the odds are entirely against you, it can be worth paying for even a tiny increase in hope.

We sing, but what comes out of our mouths does not merit the praise of that verb.

“Why does everyone want to be white?” “What? I don’t want to be white! I just said your great-grandmother looks white. White people are selfish. Their parents are always telling them, ‘Love yourself first.’ What about love your family first?