Watching the town get smaller behind me in the rear window of the van, I said goodbye to the Ktunaxa Nation. I thanked the town for its hospitality and pledged to remember my time there as a guest. Driving through the ghost town of Michel, I wondered if Sparwood would survive. The Michel Hotel, a pink colonial building, fading in the dust, was the only reminder to those passing by that there was ever life there.

When we left Sparwood, we left much more than our house, furniture, and unwanted belongings behind. The valley consumed my mother tongue, and I started to let myself forget Mother, too.

Part 2 現在Now

子Child

SHE CAME WITH THE NORTH WIND, during the change of seasons. It was the last day of summer. Long after the sun had set and the moon rose, my contractions began. They were short, pinching pains in my abdomen that paused for several minutes. I thought I could sleep through them, but just as my head relaxed on the pillow, they thundered through my belly, and I found myself wide awake, clutching the side of the bed. I crept out of the room, leaving John snoring on his pillow.

My daughter was coming early. I wasn’t ready. My sister wasn’t planning on driving from Montreal for another week. I hadn’t yet finished writing memos on the immigration cases I was transferring to the lawyer who was taking over my practice during my maternity leave.

By the time John’s alarm clock woke him up, the contractions were less than a minute apart, so we headed to the hospital. As another contraction swept over me, I waved away the lecture John gave me for not waking him sooner.

When we arrived, John told the nurse, “She wants an epidural.”

“Honey, you’re quite far along now,” the nurse said, after examining me. “I don’t know if we can give you an epidural.”

“If I’m not fully dilated, I want an epidural,” I insisted.

The nurse looked at me, and then at John, whose eyes were pleading. “Okay, I’ll get the anesthesiologist.”

A young man who looked like he was no more than eighteen years old came into the room. “Are you ready?” he asked.

The contractions were so painful that I didn’t care who administered the epidural. I nodded and he instructed me to lean forward and stay still. He directed John to hold me in place. As I leaned forward, the pendant on my necklace swung in front of my face. Auntie Choo Neo had given it to me last week. It was a jade image of Guan Yin, the goddess of compassion and mercy revered for being a bringer of children. I had grabbed the necklace out of her hands and told her I would put it on later, but she insisted I wear it immediately.

“Aya! I put it on for you,” she said. “No argument, okay? How are you going to put this on yourself? Look at this small clasp. I will do it.”