LEGACY

The husband and wife fit what they could into two bags and boarded the ship to America. They traded money for the tickets and roots for an opportunity. In a small village back in Toisan, two pits sprinkled with fresh earth gaped up at the sky.

Upon disembarking, the couple became a dandelion seed tumbling on asphalt until they snagged onto a crack. Seven times bootheels crushed them. Eight times they sprung back up, sinking a root into the nutrient-deficient soil to anchor them.

Their children sprouted lion’s-tooth arms and golden manes, and if their leaves weren’t as grand as they could have been, well, then all the better for it. The children paid by refusing to learn Cantonese, and letting go of Chinese holidays. Easier—and better—to blend in as much as possible. Here in the west, it didn’t take much to spook the majority who took no issue with razing others into the ground.

Then arose the multitudinous third generation, connected together with fibrous threads. They have to glue mustard-colored petals to their faces in order to inherit a jade bracelet that doesn’t fit.

Sabina Y. Wong (she/her) was born and raised in Los Angeles and lives in a tiny apartment made from the hundreds of books in her TBR. Her work is forthcoming in Janus Literary, Full House Literary, Provenance Journal, and Gastropoda. Though she’s supposed to be writing, she can often be found on Twitter and Instagram @SabinaYWong.