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Every morning I walk by a mini temple that sits in the corner of our kitchen. I may glance at its doors a few times during the day. When the sunlight hits the dull metallic silver frame, the bronze overlay design shines. The steeple looks regal. Inside there are a few deities that sit on a red velvet pillow in the inner chamber of the temple. There are long columns of bars that that unfold like French doors that offer the deities a symbolic privacy during the night.  These remain shut even during the day, unless my mom comes to visit. When she is here, I watch the same rituals that I witnessed as a little girl.

Read the rest of my essay on First Day Press. 

Image: “Temple” by James Butler via Flickr.

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