Winston greeted us at the arrivals level, playfully waving a sign that said, Welcome to Bandar Seri Begawan!

I recognized him right away. The dimples and stray hair sticking up on the back of his head was the same as in the childhood photos I had seen. I also recognized the raised-skin scars on his arm, the markers Father shared that were self-inflicted as a way to move through the elementary stages of suffering in Buddhism as an attempt to reach enlightenment. Father told me he did this when he was young and foolish, and implored me never to do the same, clarifying that Buddhism actually abhors harm to anyone, including oneself. Like everything else from back home, Father didn’t want to talk about Buddhism when I asked him questions about it. He said it was not important for me to understand. I marvelled at how Winston looked at once familiar and foreign to me. The scars signalled a kind of kinship but also acts of youthful rebellion and exploration that are virtually unknown in Canada.

Auntie hugged her son and said, “Jin gu boh kua dio, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

It was one of the few times I had seen her tear up. I realized that Auntie had been apart from her only son for years, her last visit right after I graduated high school. It suddenly occurred to me that Auntie Choo Neo had chosen to leave her child behind, too. She chose to come to Canada, but she had wanted to bring Winston with her. She’d begged him to come, but he refused. He was already a young adult at the time, set on making his way in the country of his birth, unafraid of the precarity of his lack of citizenship. Auntie was always convinced Winston would eventually come around, but he didn’t. He held firm like the sea almond trees along the coast in Brunei, highly tolerant of difficult saline conditions, even blooming and fruiting periodically. I wondered whether Auntie regretted her choice. She was a beacon, awaiting Winston’s arrival. It must have pained Auntie to let the years of separation go by, watching from afar as Winston married, started a business, and lived his life.

I wondered whether I would have a similar reunion on this trip. Would I look at Mother’s face, hug her, shed tears? Would she be happy to see me? Did she have regrets? The anticipation was overwhelming, and although my tears were for Auntie and Winston, I longed so desperately for a similar encounter, a new beginning.

After wiping away her tears, Auntie Choo Neo didn’t waste any time. “Ai yo! Look at you! So thin! You not eating?” Auntie’s accent suddenly became thicker and more pronounced, as if she’d never left.

“Nice to see you too, Ma. Come, Come!” Winston motioned for us to follow him. “Leave your things. My driver will put them in the car.”

John looked at me and mouthed, Driver? My cousin’s comfortable life here made me wonder what my own life would have been like if my parents had stayed. We climbed into the shiny SUV after John installed Leo’s car seat.