Names.

So the other shoe did not drop. Despite a nagging fear of the unknown and of the known (what I do know of marriage), I got married and it was spectacularly beautiful and fun and the memory of it was all cool grays and warm oranges and lots of champagne and happiness.

The month before the wedding of course, I had to decide what to do with my name.

I kept my name.

Mostly, so people could find me again if they wanted to. And because some of my friends still call me by my entire name – Tabitha Pang, just because. And it always makes me smile. You know, I thought I’d want to lose that name as soon as possible, bring to a complete close, any connection to my father. But that ugly old wound will never close and you know when your mom tells you, don’t lose who you are, you have to listen to her.

I aimed for a full 13 miles but stopped at 9 miles. Three times around the Rose Bowl with only an iced americano and water was not enough. Luckily there were several fruit trucks around, just for me. I chose a little of everything – jicama, watermelon, cucumbers, papaya, pineapple, cantaloupe, honeydew, and oranges with a generous squeeze of lime, tajín, and a dash of salt. I sat under the kindest tree, on the grass, and enjoyed every bite.

I love silence. I love thinking about things, lingering on ideas and words. I love taking my time.

Last November, I had no idea if I’d make it through my life in one piece. I had no idea what to do. There wasn’t even enough of me to turn all of that into poetry. It was a wordless kind of pain. But this has been a very loud year. Full of sound. Full of change. And going most of the time, at full speed, in all directions.

The engagement. The new home. The new job.

All beautiful things. Beautiful additions to my life. Things I hoped for. And now here they are. Instead of having the stars in my life explode in my face, they are shining a bright light on me instead. It’s so wonderful, it’s hard to believe. Of all things, I am uneasy.

Unease, it turns out, is the other half of happiness.

Movement is a fantastic privilege and it allows us to do so much that our grandparents could never have dreamed of doing. But movement, ultimately, only has a meaning if you have a home to go back to. And home in the end is not just the place where you sleep, but the place where you stand. – Pico Iyer

Pico Iyer is my favorite travel writer. I love his appreciation for the outer and the inner world –  places thousands of miles away and places that require sustained reflection to reach. When I first discovered his writing, I was living and working in Japan. I printed an article he wrote about trains and taped it to my journal. Now as I daydream about where to go to next, I will keep this quote here, to remind myself that I first need to appreciate who and where I am now.

This is the summer of making things from scratch. I decided to bake soft and fluffy milk bread.

One loaf of bread, by hand, is 5 hours. It is 3AM and I am tired but the house smells delicious. Hopefully my ladies will love it or at the very least, say they love me.

Cooking amplifies, joy. Slows it down and sharpens it. Whatever it is I’m making, the entire process of cooking, from start to finish, provides me with exactly what I need to remember that everything is just fine, just as it is. Instead of choosing to doubt, worry, or wither, I choose to mix, knead, and rise. 

The Recipes:  Tangzhong and Milk Bread.