IN SEVENTH GRADE, I attended a camp where the speaker compared life to pie. Apple pie, to be exact.
I REMEMBER sitting in the back seat of the cab with my mom, staring up at the glowing white moon hovering over Korea — my ancestral homeland — and it kept following us.
HAVE YOU EVER been rejected by a church? The first stop on my month-long Asia trip: Shanghai.
IT LOOKED NOTHING like the photos my parents showed me when I was a little girl. The building was no longer a salmon-y pink with large, red Chinese characters adorning the entrance
TO MY NEPHEW: You're 2 years old as I write this letter. You're beginning to burst forth with the occasional phrase and idea, mixing your words with excited gibberish.