I looked at the houses below me, thankful to be leaving. I couldn’t wait to get back to America. I had the bright idea of spending Christmas on the island with my family for a change. The first night I was there, I wanted to take the first plane back to New York. My sister’s constant talk of her boyfriend got on my nerves because it invariably led to my mother asking me about my love life. One night at dinner, she asked, “So, what’s wrong with you?”
The fork of rice was midway to my mouth. I looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’ve been living in New York all these years and you still haven’t found a man?”
“I haven’t found the right one,” I clarified and then proceeded to put the rice in my mouth. It was delicious. I wish she’d let me enjoy it in peace. Who wanted to talk about my nonexistent love life over Pelau? Unfortunately, my mother did.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re too picky,” she said.
I didn’t answer. My father shot me sympathetic looks.
With Christmas behind me, I’m looking forward to celebrating 2019 in New York.