Welcome to the Family

When Hon and I got officially engaged, his dad's reaction was to wander off muttering something about finding his treasures. His dad has an old weathered face that seems to fit with such a pirate-like comment. He came back with a small styrofoam cooler.   I don't know how he found something so small, so quickly in a basement that definitely qualifies for both Hoarders and Antique Road Show but I've stopped questioning this man's unceasing list of random skills.

Hon's dad began to unpack random Chinese coins and jade figurines.  Soon there was a forest of curled white puffs spreading across the table.  Near the edge, two twin oxen lay among the soft padding while a small tiger prowled through the styrofoam foliage.

It was a museum lovers dream, to touch objects from another culture, hear their stories. My favorite is a small lion figurine that is kept close at hand instead of in the cooler. His dad's eyes light up as he looks at it, tells stories of playing with it as a child, all the while driving it around the table like a matchbox car. The broken sentences of broken English cannot come close to expressing the sudden joy that lights up his face.

Very aptly, Hon summed up the evening with a muttered, "Welcome to the family."

People often ask me how Hon's parents feel about me.  In part, I understand where the question comes from as many asian families emphasize preserving their culture.  However, I'm delighted to tell them that Hon's parents, on the other hand, took an immediate liking to me.  They love to share their stories, their culture, their language (despite my butchering) and even their prized possessions with me.

In fact, I have become so much a part of their family that I have been supplied 3 of my own pairs of house slippers at their place--one for every season.