How to Make Spring Rolls (a.k.a. How to Accept Your Mother with All Her Wounds)

Ma said to me, "You don't know much about cooking so let me help. Boil the water first. Then put the shrimp in, but don't leave it in too long."

"Ok ok," I said.

 "They'll shrink and then you'll lose the sweetness!" she replied.

"Ok… ok," I said.

"Hurry! You left them in too long! Take them out, peel them now. OK, you'll notice the dark line on the curve of the shrimp…", she said.

"Ok OK I know what that is!", I responded with exasperation.

"It's the shrimp's poop. Using a knife, slide along the curve. Yes, that's it. Pull IT ALL out. It's bad to eat. It's where all the gunk builds up," she says, as if she didn't hear me.

"I KNOW MOM," I responded, eyes rolling in my head.

"Boil new water for the noodles. Rinse the lettuce. Boil more hot water for the rice paper. You remember how to roll it? Remember, tight rolls. The most delicate girls roll the best ones," she says as final instructions.

Do this. Know this. Speak this. No, do it differently. Don't do that. Why did you do it? Why don't you ever listen to me? It's for your own good. I'm the only person who will tell you the way it is. I'm not scared of you. People out in the world, they'll only say nice things to you. I'm your mom, I can tell you the truth. I will tell you the truth. I'm the only one who will love you unconditionally. Unless you do that, of course. Why did you do it differently? I told you to do it this way. I told you not to. I told you to. You succeeded, don't let it get to your head. You failed, let it sit with you forever. Maybe next time you'll listen to me. I won't love you if you do it that way. I will love you if you do it this way. You aren't my daughter if that's what you choose. There is no other choice to make. I let you try yourself and you failed. Next time, listen to me. Next time, you won't fail if you do what I say. I know better than you. I know best.
 

They're god damn SPRING ROLLS. Precise instructions for the most straightforward Vietnamese dish, revealing so much if you listen closely. Her fear of failure. Her fear of my failure. Her inability to leave things to chance or allow for experimentation. Her need to have exact instruction. Her intolerance of gray areas. Her belief that the right decisions in life are absolutely crystal clear. 

All of this shows up. Even in the simplest example of how to make spring rolls.

Hearing and seeing between the instructions allows me to love my mother with all her wounds.