“Los Angeles could be my next address,” she said. I couldn’t have been more pleased with Margaret’s idea. As single mothers we could be great help to each other. We could share the rent and each keep an eye on the other’s child. It would enable us to work full-time. “We have been best friends since college,” I said. “It would be ideal!” As Margaret completed the adopting process and was on her way to pick up her daughter in China, I packed. I avoided going back to Bridgeport, because it hurt to look back. Witnessing my stomach pain, Margaret suggested that I see a divorce counselor. I told her that psychoanalysis didn’t work for Chinese. The only thing it did was make me more conscious of my misfortune. I came to America with one suitcase filled with toilet paper. Ten years later, I had three suitcases—two filled with Lauryann’s stuff. What changed was my way of thinking. I was blessed with a tomorrow-is-another-day attitude. I loved the Southern California sunshine.
