Parents

It’s fun to not just keep up the wonderful friendships that I already have in Clarkston but also to meet the new arrivals as they arrive. America is still new… scary in many ways, and also full of possibility. It’s in the first few months that they are most open, have the most time, and are eager to make connections and open their hearts and homes to an outsider. There are so many questions that an American can be very helpful with. After those first few months, they often (hopefully!) have a job, have rooted themselves into their own culture community, and don’t normally need quite the same amount of initial advice and assistance. This isn’t always true, but generally what I’ve found!

Yesterday I met a group of recently arrived refugees from Nepal. Not long after entering their apartment, I found myself graciously handed a cup of steaming hot chia, which I eagerly and thankfully took. Mmm-Mmm! One of the men had just received info about choosing a doctor for their medical plan, so Michael (friend in KW who introduced me to this family) helped him look at the big, daunting booklet of about a thousand names of doctors. I had fun chatting mostly with the women and children, trying out some Nepali, of course. Always fun!

Inevitably, when I meet new friends, I will be asked the following questions “Are you married?” “Where are you from?” “Where do you live?” “Do you have brothers and sisters?” “Are they married?” “Do they have kids?” “And father and mother? Where do they live?”

Through the typical series of questions, the connection is made that I do have a father and mother and that none of their children live with them.

Their face turns to surprise and confusion. As mine turns to discomfort and guilt creeps in my mind.

“Who takes care of your parents?”

My automatic response would be one of assuring: “No one. No one needs to!”

But that just won’t go over well. To their ears especially, parents just aren’t left by their children. It’s dishonoring and neglectful of one’s duties as a son or daughter. As the last one not married, it’s my duty to take care of them.

So, I try to explain and get across the language barrier. Yesterday, this is what jumped out of my mouth:
“Oh, they are very young! People see my mom and say “Your mom? Or your sister?” They are young! And strong. And I really live here and in their house too.”

Dare I mention that they really still take care of me? Dare I admit who still does my laundry and washes the dishes and cooks? Enh, I think I’ll leave that detail for later!