Eva Hung

A Blind Aunt Blind as a bat she was Blind and barren- Sins most abominable. Blind she was So it followed that her nature was crafty Her tongue vicious Her temper vile Her husband a misled bewitched Favorite son. Grandma did not talk about this daughter-in-law; Loathing so deep was never put into words. It soured the air like some pungent smell Seeping through a door that was always locked. Children were not supposed to know And we knew too much to dare to ask. Our eyes and ears followed the scent Curious because it was forbidden. We saw her once every Chinese New Year When mum took us to pay the customary Call of respect on her older siblings. My memory of her is white: porcelain-like skin that never saw the sun dressed in simple pale-colored shirts and dark-colored pants she sat on the bed framed on three sides by a white mosquito net eyes half-closed, reaching out for tins placed at strategic corners of her canopied bed: this one contained sweets, that one biscuits yet another held red packets for Chinese New Year she offered them to us, never fumbling voice steady and strong: Have you all grown much taller? Suddenly she took hold of my hand: You¡¦re still so thin! her grip was firm, her wrist full-fleshed her skin cool and white like congealed lard Once a year the tightly locked door opened a crack. We looked in briefly to find everything neat and clean. But the pungent smell stuck to me Used me to invade this unfamiliar white space.

Copyright © 2000 Eva Hung All Rights Reserved