While browsing in the darkness of an antique store, my hand intuitively reached for an aged, intricately carved fan. My mind travelled back in time:

Faint fragrance of sandalwood
Ushered memories of the evening
Before my Mother and I left Guangzhou

Tirelessly she organized her scrolls of calligraphy and objects of art
Teakwood furnishings, enamel vases and her favorite porcelains
All neatly packed into an obscure room
In the second story of our family home

Mother secured it with a sturdy western lock
On the morning of our departure
She handed the key to Ah Garm, our trusted man-servant
He was to guard our home and possessions against all harm

One last time, I followed her into her bedroom
Carefully she put away her jewelry pouches
In between layers of summer clothing

When the moment finally arrived for our departure
We left the house quickly
She did not once look back
It never occurred to her
That she would never, ever see her home
Again