"A s I get older, my parents begin to show me glimpses of their secret dreams. "Dad wants to move back to Vietnam when we retire," Mum tells me. "We can live like kings and queens over there!" Dad hollers in the background. My mother hasn't returned since 1978. For one, she couldn't travel without a passport, and she didn't get her Canadian citizenship until after she turned fifty-five and was no longer required to take the citizenship test. Second, she's in no rush to go back to a land still soaked in blood and mired in misery."
"After a two-day layover in Seoul, where my parents pick apart the cold, snowy weather and the unfamiliar food, we land in warm, vibrant Hà Nội. Suddenly, they come to life. All around them, people speak a language they understand. Mum and Dad are in their element. This is where they belong. M y whole life, Dad has told us stories about his life and the war, but I didn't have the ears to listen. In Vietnam, I pay attention."
The parents express a long-held desire to return to Vietnam and imagine living comfortably there. The mother has not returned since 1978 because she lacked a passport and only gained Canadian citizenship after age fifty-five. She also resists returning to a country marked by violence and suffering. Family conversations and online videos prompt a decision to travel. Upon arrival in Hà Nội, the parents immediately reconnect with language and culture and appear at ease. The narrator begins to pay attention to the father's stories about his life and the war, and historical context about Asian wartime atrocities is introduced.
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