Page 7 of Some Things Never Change

“Sure thing, roomie,” I laughed.

Much to my surprise, I didn’t sleep too well last night. I guess I had been that excited and stressed all at once about moving to Santa Mariana and starting a new life there. There were so many things to do.

I have to go through all the things I own and downsize. I intended to move only with whatever I could fit in the backseat and trunk of my compact car. In addition, I wanted to move as soon as my two weeks were up because it wouldn’t make any sense to continue to live in San Ignacio longer than I needed to.

I fell asleep perfectly fine, but I woke up in the middle of the night full of anxiety. My brain was counting all the things I needed to do. After a few hours of my checklist going in and out of my head, I wrote it all down on the Notes app on my phone, which helped quell my thoughts a bit.

Aside from things I needed to worry about with my move, I also needed to go to the cemetery to visit my dad before I left. It was something I planned to do with Jonathan and our mom. I always made sure I paid him a visit every time I came back home for a visit. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to come home as often this past year.

As I thought of visiting my dad, I also thought of the meal we could prepare for him. The Hmong people believe we have three souls. In death, one travels to the ancestral land our people came from, one becomes reincarnated, and the other stays with the body. So, it is customary for us to bring a small meal and drink for the soul that still dwells at a loved one’s resting place when we go to visit.

After deciding it was best to run what meals we could bring my dad by my mom first, my mind started to replay the moment when I first opened Andy’s Christmas gift and the way his fingertips gingerly touched my ear. A delicate warmth bloomed across my chest. Why did my mind keep replaying that?

My cousin, Shoua, was sleeping soundly next to me as I laid wide awake. As if we were teens again, she slept over so we could catch up, talking late into the hours of the morning. This was something we often did whenever I came back to my hometown.

With thoughts swimming in and out of my mind, I decided to go for an early morning run, even though my legs were still sore from my gym session days ago. It was already six, and I was sure running around the block would silent my overly active mind for a few hours.

I walked out onto the frosty front lawn and saw two tall men of the same height on the neighboring lawn. It was the twins, and I was hardly surprised.

“Good morning, Julie,” said Anthony with a chirpy voice as he did a few jumping jacks.

Unlike his older brother, Anthony was the one with the slightly darker features, with darker brown, almost black hair and sharper, more almond-shaped light brown eyes. He also had small, distinctive moles on the bridge of his nose and chin, making his face even more unique. He, too, was just as attractive as Andy, and the pair always garnered much attention and admiration growing up.

While Andy was always calm and collected, Anthony was known to be vivacious and boisterous. But, despite this difference, they were both known for their kindness to others. If it was one thing most people said about the twins, it was always about how easygoing, kindhearted, and sweet they were. They have their own faults too, of course.

Andy would often hold back from sharing the whole truth, afraid of crossing any boundaries with friends. He used to confide in me all the time throughout high school when there was tension with his friends. On the other hand, Anthony could become sensitive and reactive when his emotions got the better of him. Despite their differences, the two brothers complemented each other well.

“Good morning,” I grumbled.

“You look horrible,” said Andy. He frowned in my direction.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Go back to sleep,” retorted Anthony.

I let out a groan. “That’s easier said than done. My mind is too active. Anthony, did you sleep over?”

He nodded. I guess he decided to sleep over at his parents’ place for simplicity’s sake. “Are you stressed about the move?” he asked.

After telling Andy about the news, I broke it to my family about the job offer in Santa Mariana. I was surprised they were already expecting me to live with Andy before I could even tell them our decision. It was a no-brainer for them to assume I’d live with him, I guess.

“Yeah, I’m completely stressed out,” I admitted.

Not only did I have a lot of things to sort through, the drive between the two cities was going to be anywhere from seven to eight hours long as well. The longest I could drive in a single sitting was four hours, and that was pushing it.

“There’s nothing for you to stress out about. I’m going to be there to help you out,” said Andy.

“I know,” I said. “It’s just that I have a lot of things I need to sort through to either throw away or donate. That’s why I’m leaving later today.”

“Already?” asked Andy and Anthony in unison. They sounded shocked.

“C’mon, Julie, I’m sure you can spare some time to hang out with us for at least another day. It’s the holidays! This is a big change, but you probably shouldn’t be pushing it either,” said Anthony.

“What about the Hmong New Year?” asked Andy. “It’s going to start tomorrow. Why don’t you just stay another day?”

The Hmong New Year is an annual cultural celebration which traditionally takes place in the fall/winter for us to pay respect to our ancestors and give thanks for the completion of a harvesting season. I suppose the closest American holiday equivalent to our New Year would be Thanksgiving, but it is in no way, shape, or form like Thanksgiving.

Although we give thanks, it is primarily to our ancestors as we welcome the beginning of a new year. Most cities or towns with Hmong Americans celebrate it at different times during the fall or winter seasons. While some Hmong communities celebrate it before or after Thanksgiving, my hometown celebrates it during the days after Christmas every year.

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