We spent a couple hours at Phap Hoa temple today and celebrated the birth of Buddha with a few hundred Vietnamese New Englanders. Beatrice was challenged to sit quietly for over 90 minutes to listen to (mainly) Vietnamese, but we enjoyed the sights and sounds, and of course the free vegetarian lunch following. What a great community. I sat there in disbelief and gratitude that we live less than an hour from such a place/event. I also flashed back strongly to our time in Vietnam, due to the familiar music and the sea of beautiful black heads, and got that "homesick" feeling for it that I used to get so often soon after we returned (over three years ago now), as well as a twinge of the guilt I used to feel, for taking her away from her land and people. Before the ceremony, B. and I were in the ladies' room and many women were crammed in there and speaking Vietnamese and Beatrice got quiet and then said to me "I forgot what they saying." I thought it was interesting that she said "forgot," vs. "I don't know." It was a moment and I reminded her that she used to understand some Vietnamese, but of course at almost 4-years old she declared she never wants to learn it again. Hopefully she will change her mind someday.
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