a feast of nostalgia.

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chinese food

It’s Chinese but Anglicized, sweet and sour, but not succulent, noodles, stir fry, dumplings, but lacking the subtle nuances of the real thing. The smiles are polite and kind but lack the friendly vitality. I am heart sick for China.

The buffet tempted me in (that and my grandson’s eagerness) but it’s painful to be so tempted, only the feel of the chopsticks and the taste of the tea are the same. I long to book a flight and just go, but I remember too well the toll that trip takes on my body.

I recall my friends, the tearful partings, the smells, the humidity, the feeling of coming home, my other home. How I am sometimes torn between two worlds wishing I could spend time in both. Life is easier here but sometimes I miss that other home…

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