2022
Always There Was Rice b u n ko n g t u o n
on the black greasy stove. Always my uncles and aunts left for work in factories and plants where all day they stood between what they had escaped from and what lay ahead. Always Lok-Yiey cooked Khmer sausages in a frying pan, transferred them to a red-and-white plate for my cousins and me. She always reused the same oil for the fish my uncles and aunts had caught in the Providence River the weekend before. Always there was soy sauce, fish sauce, and chili sauce on the round table in the kitchen. Always karaoke on weekends. Someone always got drunk and cursed the stars and the shadows of the humid summer evening. When my uncle and aunts returned in late afternoons I don’t remember them saying much. They ate the food that Lok-Yiey had prepared. After supper, my aunts cleaned the dishes while my uncles watched cartoons on TV. At night, all the rooms were occupied by sleeping uncles and aunts, cousins and grand52
The Lowell Review
