TIFFANY HUI

Mother, Mischievous Me

 

MOTHER, MISCHIEVOUS ME

thui_Holly.jpg
 
 

Outside my childhood house grew several masses of short holly shrubs.
Brightest red berries. I remember their distinctive allure, ogling the tiny berries every time I stepped out the door.

One day, I picked one of the berries and took a bite.

Bitter.

Don’t like that.

Spit it out.

Years, years, years later, in the same old childhood house,
I noticed the holly plants were missing. 

"Where did they go?" I asked my mother.

“We were afraid you would try to eat them when you were younger
…so we had them removed.”

 
 
 
 

In dear memory of my mother;
may i never stop sharing stories of you.