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| With Sister Marie-Stella Lanoue |
In 1982, we lived in Longueuil city. I was about two years old. My entire family was split into two apartment buildings a couple blocks away from each other. One day, my older brother decided to go see our grandmother at the other building. As he opened the door, he left the door opened behind him allowing my little toddler's escape into the wild suburbs of Montreal. I must have followed him for a while and lost his track and strayed on my own separate way.
Luckily for me, a very concerned Catholic nun happened to get off the bus right on time to discover me waddling around without any adult supervision. During those years, they weren't that many Asian families in that area yet, and since she lived in the same neighborhood, she had an idea where my home was.
When Sister Marie-Stella told me that story later on, she liked describing to me how trusting I was with her, how I stopped crying once she approached me as if I could tell she was there to help. I couldn't talk to her and the little I knew was all in Cambodian. As we got closer to my house, my face lit up and she then knew we were heading the right way. She described the look on my mother's face when she opened the door and found me with this stranger. I was so happy and smiling, my face still wet from my tears and my bangs blown by the wind.
Since then, Sister Marie-Stella became a member of my family. She would call me every two weeks and visit me almost every month. Sister Marie-Stella was 90 last time we spoke and naturally still never had a single gray hair. She said it was common in her family. She stayed in touch until I turned 22. Then, she moved and I never heard back from her. I wonder where she is sometimes and if she's still alive. I wish she met my husband and son. I miss her greatly and think about her every time I eat some chocolate covered almonds. Those were the treats she got for me at every visits. <3
Luckily for me, a very concerned Catholic nun happened to get off the bus right on time to discover me waddling around without any adult supervision. During those years, they weren't that many Asian families in that area yet, and since she lived in the same neighborhood, she had an idea where my home was.
When Sister Marie-Stella told me that story later on, she liked describing to me how trusting I was with her, how I stopped crying once she approached me as if I could tell she was there to help. I couldn't talk to her and the little I knew was all in Cambodian. As we got closer to my house, my face lit up and she then knew we were heading the right way. She described the look on my mother's face when she opened the door and found me with this stranger. I was so happy and smiling, my face still wet from my tears and my bangs blown by the wind.
Since then, Sister Marie-Stella became a member of my family. She would call me every two weeks and visit me almost every month. Sister Marie-Stella was 90 last time we spoke and naturally still never had a single gray hair. She said it was common in her family. She stayed in touch until I turned 22. Then, she moved and I never heard back from her. I wonder where she is sometimes and if she's still alive. I wish she met my husband and son. I miss her greatly and think about her every time I eat some chocolate covered almonds. Those were the treats she got for me at every visits. <3
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