Parent's Weekend Poem by anais vionet

Last weekend was "Parent's" weekend at Yale. A time when parents are formally invited to visit. They have receptions and other events - but no potato-sack races (which is disappointing) . My parents couldn't come, they've never come to parent's weekend, but Leong's parents came again, from Macao, China, a 16,060-mile round trip.

There was a time when boys could tank my self-confidence with a word. When the male gaze seemed overpowering. I'd felt constantly evaluated - but I've evolved - somewhat. We're going to a party. Lisa, Leong, Sunny, Anna and I - we've got our shine on and we're drawing looks. Well, ok, Lisa's drawing looks and I'm in the general frame.

Lisa sneezed, "The air quality's bad tonight, " she announced, wiping her nose with a Kleenex.
"I don't have any allergies, " I bragged. "Me neither, " Leong added.
"If you can breathe the air in China, " I said, "You're golden."
Leong laughed "Tài zhenshí liao, " (Too true!) She agreed.

As we left the more street-lit part of the path, the moon, wandering in and out of the clouds, created moving shadows that peopled the darkness with phantoms. Was that impression the paranoia of fatigue? I haven't been getting much sleep lately. Or maybe it's October and Halloween's just around the corner.

I was walking in the rear, nestled in the mingled scents of my roommates' perfumes that, like rare blossoms, enchanted and excited the child in me. I wasn't paying attention, and I stubbed my toe on a misaligned sidewalk tile. Don't you hate the gap between stubbing your toe and feeling the pain?