Stop Calling Me Mom! – Family & Coming-of-Age

When I was six years old, my biological parents cheated on each other in tandem, then gleefully dragged each other to court for a divorce. One was in a rush to sell our house, and the other couldn’t wait to sell the car. But the moment they saw me standing in the corner… their smiles vanished completely.

Obviously, neither of them wanted to be burdened with extra baggage. Cruel, venomous words flew back and forth right over a six-year-old’s head.

Just as I was about to faint from starvation, my young uncle picked me up and brought me home.

Years later, after I made something of myself, my parents showed up at my door, sobbing and blubbering, begging me to take care of them in their old age.

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost went blind. “Sorry, I only have one parent. My uncle.”

My uncle, who was standing right beside me, instantly flew off the handle. “Bui Chi! How many times do I have to tell you? Stop calling me your mom!”

I ducked my head and sprinted away as fast as my legs could carry me.