Man

"My first mother, the one who conceived me and gave birth to me, had a hole in her head. She was a young adult or maybe still a little girl, for no Vietnamese woman would have dared carry a child unless she had a ring on her finger.

My second mother, the one who plucked me out of a vegetable garden among the okra, had a hole in her faith. She no longer believed in people, especially when they talked. And so she retired to a straw hut, far from the powerful arms of the Mekong, to recite prayers in Sanskirt.

My third mother, the one who watched me attempt my first steps, became Maman, my Maman.

From Mn by Kim Thuy 2013 English translation copyright Sheila Fischman 2014. Published by Random House Canada.