Wedding Day, Flushing Meadows

Mom and Dad were married on a humid August afternoon in Flushing. The reception was in the church basement — fold-out tables, paper flowers, and a reception Wei helped arrange himself the night before because he wanted every detail just so.

Grandma Rosa flew up from San Juan. Wei's uncle sent a telegram from Guangzhou that arrived three days late and made everyone cry anyway.

I wasn't born yet, of course. But I've looked at those photographs so many times I feel like I was there: Carmen in a simple ivory dress she altered herself, Wei in a borrowed suit, both of them laughing like the future was already settled.

They were right. It was.