“I’m sure. I’ve eaten these many times.”

“Okaaay! I’m off to get something fresh downstairs. You sure you don’t want me to get you anything?”

“No, thanks.” After she left, I had lost my appetite. I shoved the Tupperware back in my bag and vowed never to put myself in a situation where I would have to bring my food out in public again.

Father was a slow and loud cook, and now he was banging around the kitchen with various spatulas. I was so sleep deprived that I just sat at my kitchen table without offering to help, watching him mince copious amounts of ginger, the yellow pieces glistening on the cutting board. Then he chopped an entire chicken, deftly moving the cleaver over the board forcefully and rapidly. The pounding against the wooden board was a familiar metronome that my body hummed to unconsciously. Father dropped the ginger, spices, and chicken into his soup pot and slowly poured in the rice wine at intervals. Rice bubbled in my rice cooker, the lid dancing in a lively, wet tempo. Father left his concoction on the stove to simmer and sat down with me, leaning back in his chair. He smiled, satisfied, content, at peace.

“So does my granddaughter have a name yet?” he asked.

“We still haven’t decided,” I confessed.

“So, no birth certificate?”

“Well, she needs a name first, Dad.”

“What are you waiting for?” he demanded. “That piece of paper is the most important thing in her life. You know I never had one. It was like I was invisible, a ghost, or worse, just shit on the ground.”

“Dad, why are you being so crass?” I said with an uncomfortable snicker.

“Lily, this is no laughing matter. You need to get her birth certificate right away. It’s her life. It’s proof she is Canadian, that she belongs here.”

“Honestly, Dad, there’s no rush. It’s not a big deal here.”

Father shifted closer to me in his chair, as if I needed to hear him better. “It is a big deal!”

“Dad, calm down.”

“Listen, Lily. It may not seem like a big deal to you because you were born here. You don’t know what it’s like not to have any status. Don’t ever take it for granted. Laws could change tomorrow, and then people born here may not be able to get citizenship. That is the reality. Nothing is certain.”

“Dad, I’m a lawyer, I should know. The government isn’t going to change laws that drastically.”

“I am very disappointed to hear you say that,” Father huffed. “You’re right, as a lawyer, you should know better. You should be more aware that things won’t always stay the same.”

“Aren’t you being a little melodramatic?”

“Lily, you’re always telling me that the laws are changing all the time for your clients, and it’s hard to keep track of everything. That the government is finding ways to restrict people from getting status, and you’re afraid people won’t be able to stay here.”