The Sun

I wrote this story almost 3 years ago during my first trip to Vietnam.

I snapped my picture as I leaned out from a boat tied to the dock in My Tho, a small riverside market town in the Mekong Delta region. It was hot, a scorching 95 degrees! The sky was pure blue. The sun's rays slithered down, working their way onto every patch of my exposed skin, causing it to sizzle.

Through my new eyes, she was the most beautiful child I'd ever seen. She was brilliant. Her face was calm. Her skin, tan. Pieces of hair blew over her eyes in the gentle breeze. 8, 10, or maybe she was 12. It's hard to tell with Vietnamese. I myself am commonly mistaken for 18. I couldn't tell if at her age, she had managed to come out of her home this morning stylin in the rags that she picked off the wire clothesline suspended from the balcony of her parents' 500 square foot, 1 BR apartment where she lived with her mother, father, brother, sister, grandmother and grandfather, or if she was from a family of means, in a 1000 square foot, 2 BR apartment with her mother, father, brother, sister, grandmother and grandfather.

I sat on the boat contemplating, wondering why was she here on this dock? She wasn't begging, she wasn't selling, she wasn't eating, she wasn't playing. She just stood there still, radiating brilliance and staring at the water and holding something that I do not remember.

As the boat pulled us away to our next destination, I realized that I would never see her again and would never know her. I would never know why she was standing there alone on the dock. I would never know if her home was 500 or 1000 square feet. I would never know if she was hungry or full. I would never know if she would grow up to be what she is capable of, like Miss Saigon, or Miss Vietnam, or Miss Universe.

Back in Saigon, on Pham Ngu Lao, my mother and I climbed off the bus along with the other tourists. This was the part of town where the hippies, expats, and Vietnam Vets slept, drank, ate, smoked, and had sex. We walked to the corner of Pham Ngu Lao and De Tham. There on the corner a group of Vietnamese men congregated on their parked motor bikes. A small group of baby tables and baby chairs were semi-arranged along both edges of the corner with a few random people sitting at them including one pretty, young girl. An older Vietnamese man stood near the edge of the sidewalk studying the crowd. It was a fairly typical street scene. A tall foreigner approached the Vietnamese man. After a few words were exchanged the Vietnamese man motioned to the young girl. She approached. She took the foreigner's hand and they walked away together and rounded the corner. My mom had crossed the street and had taken shelter from the Sun underneath a fruit stand umbrella. I paused for a moment and prayed for the Sun to keep shining in My Tho.