When My Daughter Came Home

It’s been a week and a half since my daughter Bokei returned from Taiwan, where she spent a full year immersed in Mandarin. Her days there were fulfilling but tinged with homesickness. Strangely enough, once she got back to the U.S., she admitted, “It’s kind of boring here!” I chuckled and replied, “The grass is always greener on the other side.” Isn’t it funny how we often long for faraway places while overlooking what’s right in front of us?

What surprised me most is how much she’s grown—not just in language skills, but in maturity and emotional awareness. She’s been more thoughtful and helpful around the house, and more considerate toward us as parents. A few days ago, we had lunch together at a little Vietnamese spot. She ordered a few dishes, but I wasn’t very hungry. When the food arrived, she said, “The noodle soup can’t really be packed, so I’ll just finish it. The spring rolls can be saved for dinner.” That small moment warmed my heart. I smiled and said, “You're starting to become as frugal as your mom and grandma.”

Bokei is a bit concerned that she won’t have many chances to speak Mandarin now that she’s back. And honestly, even I feel a bit awkward switching to Chinese with her—we’ve always spoken English at home, and now our conversations in Mandarin sometimes feel clunky. But really, it’s an easy problem to solve. Yesterday, I brought her along to a hiking meetup with my group of older Chinese friends. She was delighted and told me, “Their Mandarin is so easy to understand!” I laughed, “Of course! Most of them are highly educated.”

Later she asked, “If someone compliments me, should I just say ‘thank you,’ or should I be modest like in Chinese culture?” I said, “In America, saying ‘thank you’ is perfectly polite—no one expects you to deflect the compliment.” I could tell she’s beginning to grasp the nuances of different cultures and how to navigate them thoughtfully.

Over the past year, she wasn’t just learning a language—she was soaking in a culture. She now speaks with more care, sees things with greater depth, and considers others’ cultural perspectives with empathy. This kind of personal growth moves me far more than any academic achievement. As a mother, I’ve waited nearly twenty years for this moment—the moment when my daughter is not only willing but ready to have a meaningful, heart-to-heart conversation with me. What a beautiful reward.

Now, I can’t help but wonder: will her brother Bolun get the chance to experience something similar? This summer, he’ll be working with a computer science professor at UCLA. Everything’s already set. But maybe next summer, he could intern in China—perhaps even with Bokei by his side. I think it would be such a meaningful journey if they could travel together, look out for each other, and learn side by side. When I shared this idea, they both seemed genuinely excited. As a mother, my deepest wish is for them to keep growing together, encouraging each other every step of the way. That, to me, is happiness.

✨ Later that evening, I teased Bokei, “Do you really want duck blood?” She laughed, “Yes! But only if it’s in spicy hot pot.” I replied, “That’s easy—just check YouTube for how to make a good broth.” She paused and said, “Or... maybe just check 99 Ranch to see if they have ready-made spicy soup base... and frozen duck blood.” 😄