" The boats are setting sail for Thailand. We need to hurry." 

Before I could respond, he squeezed some clothes and toiletries into a bag.

" Wake your brothers ..." He ordered. Leaping to his pace, he grabbed my youngest brother, Nam.

" Listen. It's going to be cold. I want you to bear it. Okay?" He looked up at each of us. 

Liem tugged the sides of my skirt. " Where are we going?" 

I didn't know, but the conversation from our neighbors had enlightened me. It was an escape.

I tried to keep up with father's pace, but my feet were two bags of grain on the ground.

" Stay here. I will be back." He dropped the bags on the boat.

Liem grabbed his hand. “ Let me come with you.”

He shook his head and turned on his heels.

Nam buried his head on my thighs once we were settled on the boat. " Mia sister... I want to go back home." 

I felt his tears wet my skirt and stroke his hair. I was afraid as they. More afraid because I heard people died.

The only thing that kept me from running behind father was their tight grip on my skirt.

Gunshots sounded so close like an eruption beneath me.

I turned to that direction. Liem snapped, “ is he coming? Mia is father coming?”

I waited. Longing. Hoping. 

 Without our father, we were three helpless children bundled in a boat, at the mercy of the elements.

The thought scared life from my bones. 

With eyes glued anxiously on the path behind, we scanned the masses headed our way for a little sprint in a step.

I felt a wet patch beneath me. I must have peed on my pants when the sailor announced departure.

" Please," I held the hem of his shirt. " My father is out there." 

He brushed away my hands. “ Did you not hear that gunshot?”

" He's here. Mia." Liem called, excitedly.

But something was gone. The space was empty, and instead of Nam's warm hold, I felt cold and paralyzed.

“Father...Nam...”

" Here," he replied and lifted Nam back on the boat. Disappointment coloured his eyes. 

Sunken to the sea bed of my failure, I watched the path home disappear in slow motion. Liem was doubtful he would ever see his friends at school. Nam was afraid he would be alone.  My mind was a fog. I could only make out a longing for home. 

Father gathered us on his thighs. " Nam, we will come home again. Liem. You must be strong. Alright?

My spring blossom," he called me. “ You must not make this mistake again. Watch your siblings no matter what.”

I couldn't tell why he said those things, but before we made it to the gulf, he was arrested.

Nam was asleep. Liem was assured of our reunion. But me...I became a mother of two children who lived in a refugee camp for one full year.

It got cold eventually. At the end, we were back where we took off. But our father was not with us this time. Only his ashes made it home.

In memory of 1959–1975 in Vietnam.