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by Jirayut Latthi
It is always prefaced with, “I know I’m going to butcher this.” Almost always a pause. There, that didn’t sound half bad.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I see the debt collectors waiting outside the gates of our home in Thailand. My parents’ faces displayed agony as they fought over what to do and where to go next. It seemed like there was no escape.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I return to that apartment in Milpitas where my brother, sister, and I crammed into the one bedroom while my parents slept on the floor in the living room—right next to the kitchen and dirty shoes.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I relive each time I had to ask others to repeat themselves as I tried to absorb and use as much English as I could.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I call my mom’s gynecologist to describe the sharp pains she still had months after surgery. There was no other Thai translator.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I remember why I must step forward. More than just a remnant of my past, I cling to my name through the most desperate of times. I see the goals I have yet to reach—they are in sight. I know how to change this. I will get papers, I will get scholarships, I will graduate, and I will become a doctor.
JIR-A-YUT. Perseverance, persistence, “long fighting.”
It is always prefaced with, “I know I’m going to butcher this.” Almost always a pause. There, that didn’t sound half bad.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I see the debt collectors waiting outside the gates of our home in Thailand. My parents’ faces displayed agony as they fought over what to do and where to go next. It seemed like there was no escape.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I return to that apartment in Milpitas where my brother, sister, and I crammed into the one bedroom while my parents slept on the floor in the living room—right next to the kitchen and dirty shoes.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I relive each time I had to ask others to repeat themselves as I tried to absorb and use as much English as I could.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I call my mom’s gynecologist to describe the sharp pains she still had months after surgery. There was no other Thai translator.
JIR-A-YUT. With each syllable, I remember why I must step forward. More than just a remnant of my past, I cling to my name through the most desperate of times. I see the goals I have yet to reach—they are in sight. I know how to change this. I will get papers, I will get scholarships, I will graduate, and I will become a doctor.
JIR-A-YUT. Perseverance, persistence, “long fighting.”
