Nowadays I like to start my morning reading the two Heathers. They are strong women. They speak the truth. They educate me to care, to listen and that I can make a difference. I’ve become politically interested and engaged. The Heathers are Heather Cox Richardson and Heather Delaney Reese. I’m always a truth seeker and speaker. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why I find life difficult. Another one is I am a woman of colour and an immigrant. Though I come from a culture where sons are preferred over daughters, my parents weren’t of that mind. My paternal grandmother was though.

She had no influence over how I felt about myself. I grew up feeling I am a person of worth. I’ve never thought I was less because I am female or because I am an Asian. I come from strong stock. My maternal grandfather escaped the clutches of Mao but not my grandmother. She was thrown in jail in his place. She survived and thrived. They had done nothing wrong. My grandfather was a teacher and mayor of their village. My grandmother was a housewife. They were not landowners. They were persecuted because of jealousy and fake stories. That’s been many years ago. Both of them have been gone for many years but their story still lives in me.

It is the 10th of March. We had snow overnight. The sun is shining bright. The thermometer dips and rises unpredictably. One day is spring. The next it is winter. My cold is better but the cough lingers. I feel better and worse at the same time. I am sickened by Donald Trump and his wars. I wonder what all the bombing and destruction are doing to the environment. In this moment, I have no positive bone in my body. It is a difficult life but I must rise and take charge of this one precious one that I have. What will I do? A little this, a little that. It all adds up. What will you do?