25
Fieldwork
The letter was stiff in her hand, the paper, Government Issue; the black ink scrawl was hard to read. It was addressed to her, fourteen years
ago. She was nearly thirteen then and her memories of Daddy were kept alive by stories he had sent her from ‘Nam on small reel-to-reel audiotapes, punctuated by the sound of gunfire and
bombs. Her mother had saved every letter in the black and bamboo-lidded treasure cache of a Filipino bride. Occasionally, Mother would take one out and share it with Zen. Then, carefully fold and
replace it after, after a good cry.
Until today, Zen had no clue that this particular letter existed. It was addressed: “To Zenaides Lim Baker... Please, only to be opened by her when she is sure to become a mother. Merry
Christmas Zenny, Love Daddy.”
Bab
