Tuesday, September 9, 2014


For as long as I could remember, my Ma was and is a crafty wordsmith. She easily had folks laughing with her quick wordplay. One of those happened to be a laugh to keep you from crying type of deal, when she talked about dad and his physical appearance. She said when she met him, she thought something along the lines of - Well, he may be an ugly piece of wood, but perhaps he's got a beautiful soul. Soon after, she realized he was - A rotting piece of wood. 

In Vietnamese, it sounded like poetry. It was succinct and biting, and let the audience know right away what kind of man my dad was and still continues to be. 

After a difficult ass therapy session today, with a focus on that asshole of a human being - the image of a tree stuck. The Giving Tree is a widely known tree-story, but this one is likely its antithesis.

At some point in its life, the tree may have provided nutrients for those around it. But in my 28 years observing it, the nourishment was deceptive. What it provided was poison. And what it sacrificed were just mere gains for itself. 

It's been sitting there, rotting alone. And yet, it still manages to exploit the soil it's lived in, the sun shining on it, and the moisture that other living things could use. Attempts to remove its roots are not enough. It's stubborn and the scarred soil remembers it. 

It has never given without gaining substantially. It only knows how to sacrifice others. 

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